


"I'm With You till the End of the Line."

by adventuresofbuckybear, Seed10110



Category: No Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:03:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 67,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1434436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adventuresofbuckybear/pseuds/adventuresofbuckybear, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seed10110/pseuds/Seed10110
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve's POV of finding the Winter Soldier and trying to help bring back his old friend.<br/>Steve's part is written by adventuresofbuckybear</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Where do you want me to start?  
   
\--Just start anywhere you'd like.--  
   
...I don't...  I'm not sure how to answer that.  
   
\--You can start with the first thing you remember if you'd like.--  
   
I don't know what that is.  All that I have are fragmented thoughts, I'm not even sure if they are mine, or if they belong to someone else.  I don't understand time.  Nothing happens in any order.  
   
\--We can help you figure all of that out as we go.  That is why you are here.  You can talk about something more recent if you think that will help.--  
   
...Recent.  Like how I got here?  
   
\--That would be a good place.--  
   
...Okay.  It happened over a long night.  It was raining.  There had been a roadblock, but it wasn't me that they were looking for.  I'd gotten through, and I was on foot. Cars hadn’t been an option open to me...

It wasn't quite dark yet.  I wouldn't normally move in daylight, but exhaustion, hunger, and the effort it had taken to heal myself after the helicarrier had weakened my resolve.  And the museum.  That more than anything else.  After that I all I knew was that I needed to leave the city.  I didn't know where to go but I knew that I had to get away.  
   
They'd been following me.  I'd evaded them several times.  That man, and the one whose wing I'd ripped off.  They'd never seen me.  I always escaped before they could see me, but the last time I'd damaged my arm again and I had to get away.  So I walked in the rain, hoping it would help.  People don't look up as much when it rains.    
   
Civilians look down to avoid puddles, keep the rain from their faces, don't bother to gaze up from their umbrellas.... civilians do, but he wasn't a civilian.  He found me.  He looked at me.  
   
I hesitated.  I hesitated for one second too long.  
   
I could have run.  I should have, I don't know I didn't.  I felt near to fainting but that has never stopped me before.  I stood there; I hesitated long enough for him to speak to me.  
   
"Bucky, I can help you."  
   
"You can't help me."  He couldn't.  No one could.  I turned to walk away but he said it again.  
   
"Please, let me help you Bucky."  
   
"No.  You can't help me.  Every injury that you gave me I've healed on my own."  I held up my arm to him, "But this you can't fix."  
   
I walked away but he was following me.  Talking to me - not loud enough for us to be noticed by the crowd.  I knew how to disappear into it.  I should have.  He stepped in front of me.  
   
"You're right.  I can't fix it, but I know someone who can."  
   
I wish I could explain why I went with him.  He was my mission, forget what I felt when I pulled him from the water.  He was my mission and.... I don't know.  I guess it seemed like the right thing to do in that moment.  If he could have it repaired, I could always stay just long enough for that and then escape afterward.  I had escaped from him before.  Even with out back up, I could do it again if I had to.  
   
I kept telling myself that as he led me to the car.  It was several blocks - at every step I anticipated the trap, the ambush.  But there wasn't one.    
   
The car ride was hard, but not as hard as the past few days had been.  

Surviving had been the easy part. The city - it had been in lock down in the weeks after it had happened. I’d gotten by. After it, when everything - when I’d failed to complete my mission, I knew I’d have to run. I knew how to hide, how to blend in. The safe boxes, the string of hotel rooms every night. Setting my broken bones, cleaning the blood stains and moving on before I could be caught. I would have left the city sooner, but all agencies were hunting down suspects and I was one of them. A week. Two, trying to forget, trying to make contact, never receiving and answer. This had happened before, not like this - but always they found came for me. No response. I began to panic. I needed orders. 

My resources were almost drained. I’d need to move. I tried, but I kept seeing them. I ran every time. I didn’t want to see him, I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to feel whatever it was that I felt that day when I.... All I wanted was to go back. I’d had enough, I thought I could run and survive. 

I kept seeing things that I didn’t want to see. His image on news stands, the ad in the subway for the museum. I ran at the first sight of it. I didn’t want to go. I tried not to think about it, but I had to - I had to know. It.......

I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t - I it - everything unravelled after that. My thoughts were - I wanted it to stop. I just wanted someone to give me orders - I didn’t want to be what - I just wanted to be given orders. That must be why I got into the car with him.

 

All I had wanted was a way to silence the barrage of thoughts that had been assaulting me.  The confines of the car were unnerving, and yet it forced me to focus on him - on any sudden moment, on my exits - at any sign that I needed to escape.  
   
He called someone.  We were driving North to New York.  The man that he knew would fly there and meet us.  I was dizzy, my head swam and the pouring rain - it was like my thoughts had been before, and endless torrent.  It was getting harder to focus on my escape, on anything.  
   
"He is Howard Stark's son.  You remember Howard Stark, don't you?"  He kept saying these things to me.  I wanted him to shut up, but I said nothing and kept my face still.  "Howard Stark's son,"  
   
Howard Stark's son...  
   
There was daylight in the night the sky when we'd reached the city, but dark enough still that we could walk through the streets unseen.  Even still he told me that he was taking us through the back entrance.  
   
I had expected this all along, but then I knew for certain.  He would take me through a secret entrance and down into a darkened basement where men would be waiting with guns.  There they would wipe me and put me back into cryo.  Still I followed.  That was the end of all of my missions was it not?  And he had been my mission...  
   
He said it again as he walked me to the door.  "Do you remember Howard Stark?"  
   
I knew what he wanted me to answer, so I said "Yes."  I didn't.  I didn't remember things at all, I only knew a few things and I was sick of knowing them.  Just wipe me quickly, I kept thinking as he walked me down the hall to the elevator.  
   
I thought it, I kept telling myself that was what I wanted but I panicked when I saw the elevator.  I tried to hide it from them.  My heart was racing, my human hand was shaking, and as the elevator doors closed shut behind us my throat closed and I couldn't breathe.  
   
The elevator began to move upwards.  I was terrified by it.  Why was it taking so long - what were they going to do to me now?   He lead me down another hall to a door… No!  Run, I can still run. I don't want this.  The museum - no.  No, I have to go back to the museum. I don't care if it isn't really - I - I had to get out before they took it from me. I was wrong - I should never have gone - I wanted the museum back!  
   
He lead me towards the door, there was another man waiting outside.  The museum, don't take it from me. That new man wasn't there, not etched on the glass. His face wasn't in it - I’d never seen him before.  
   
"So, how 'bout that? Another fossil," the new man was saying.  
   
"Stark, not now," the other one was angry when he said it.  
   
The new man wasn't angry, "Hey, you were the one insisting this couldn't wait."   
   
Where were the guards?  I looked around frantically to see just how many I would have to take out if I were going to make it back to the museum.  I was trying to hard to hide it, but by then I was breathing erratically. They would know, they would restrain me and I wouldn't be able to get back.  
   
They were talking. I tried to understand what they were saying, but the blood pounding in my ears and the terror that they would take the only thing I had made it impossible.  I knew, I knew that I was too weak to fight and that made it all the worse.  
   
The new man opened another door, and the other one lead me through.  Surely there would be men with guns once we entered - but there was no one.  And the room was wrong - it wasn't even a room.  The room was supposed to be small and dark with flickering fluorescent lights and machines.  There were machines, but not what I'd expected.  Nothing was right.  
   
Windows. There were windows.  Huge windows that looked out onto the city - the sun was breaking over the horizon.  The room was huge and white - but the light - so much of it came from the sunrise.  I didn't understand.  The machines were unfamiliar too - they were clean.  And there were cars, why cars?  What the hell kind of trick was this?  
   
Where was it?  Where was the chair?  I didn't see it.  My heart was pounding so hard at the thought that my next sight would be that chair - but they led me to a different one.  They made me sit.  
   
No.  Not like this.  Not when I have come so close to freedom that I can see the sun, don't take it from me - not the sun, not the museum not the name that I'd read or that he kept repeating.  Don't do this to me here, not when I can see the sky - not here.  
   
The new one was holding my broken arm and I lost it. I tried to throw him but only managed to shove him back a few feet.  He caught himself and yelled to the other one.  
   
"What the hell!?  Hey Cap - you said he would be OK,"  
   
He had already lunged to pin me down. "Stark, I'm sorry," he was shouting to him, but he was looking at me.  He was looking in me in that horrible way he had looked at me on the helicarrier.  It tied my stomach into knots and made me sick.  I hated it - I hated that feeling, I hated feeling anything.  
   
They were both yelling at each other, both arguing.  I felt this horrible stabbing pain within me.  I wanted it to stop.  I looked down at my broken arm, how two of my fingers refused to respond.  He was looking at me again.  I could sense it.  In between yelling at the new man he would talk to me - I didn't want to hear.  I didn't want to feel it.  
   
"I will obey."  
   
They both fell silent.  Then both of them were looking at me that way.  The new man looked away first and said something to the other one, "Fine, but if he tries anything again I'm suiting up," at least, I think thats what he said.  
   
I let them take off my jacket and my shirt after that. The new one took to looking over my arm. There was a third voice, I'd heard it earlier.  An AI I think.  I was familiar with that.  I waited for it to give me instructions but it was aiding him.  I didn't understand.  
   
Something was wrong, no one was slipping anything into my mouth for me to bite down on, but if that AI thing is talking I was supposed to have it.  I looked around for it, nothing.  The other one kept staring at me - I looked away.    
   
I knew how to control my breathing, how to control my heart rate but I couldn't.  Stop staring at me.  Shut up.  Shut up.  
   
The new man was easier, he was so fixated on my arm and how it worked.  He acted as if I wasn't attached to it, and that I understood.  That, and the voice of the AI were the only things that made sense.  He barked orders, that I understood.  The other one just wouldn't shut up.  

He says these things and they make me feel things and it scares me.    
   
The room was so big, the ceiling was so high, there was too much space - no one pointing guns at me.  No one was telling me what to do.  I was starting to panic again - the walls were too high, too clean and too white.  The one looking over my arm was yelling for things to be brought to him, the machines responded, would that be the moment I got wiped? Even now - I’m afraid - like I’m still there.  
   
The other one had pulled a chair beside me to sit.  He wouldn't shut up, but as the machine brought the tools over to the engineer, I didn't want him to.  
   
"Bucky, its okay, you can trust Tony.  I don't know anyone else who could do a better job than him."  
   
Tony.  Tony?  He was probing at my shoulder, the part I could feel.  "How is this attached? Does this hurt?"  
   
"Yes," it does.  Sometimes it does. It was hurting a lot that morning, I don’t even think I’d noticed until he said it...  
   
“Rogers, I really need to remove it to get a better-“  
   
"Not now," the other one said.  
   
"You asked me to fix him. Let me scan him. I can remove this one, machine out the parts -"  
   
"No, just take care of the basics, we can worry about that later."  
   
Scan me?  Remove it?   The other one must have seen my fear; he brushed my hair out of my eyes and was telling me again that everything was going to be all right.  
   
I half wanted to spit on him, but there was always something keeping me from killing him.  Something in his voice.  Even when I blocked out the exact words, there was something about his voice.  I didn't know how much longer I would have.  His voice, I knew, would be taken from me when I was wiped.  
   
Always fighting to remember, some fraction of a dream, I'm not even sure if it is mine.  The sun rises higher in the sky.  The words are still a blur, but a pleasant one.  I'm not in pain.  Several times they ask if I want food or a drink.  Even the AI asks but I refuse.  
   
I do want it though, but I know better than to ask.  I know what happens when I do.  
   
"...Remember Bucky?  That time at the border, he fixed that gun in seconds.  Howard Stark.  This his Howard Stark's son."  
   
Howard Stark.  I finally repeat.  My voice is small - shaking from lack of water, sleep and use.  Howard Stark, I say again, falling asleep, closing my eyes as some small fragment of remembrance comes back to me.  I turn towards him, I'm so confused, but I understand enough to tell him, "I'm sorry."  
   
I snap to consciousness then, my eyes widen at the fear of what I have done.  The one working on my arm does not look up, he only mutters, "Yeah, Dad died years ago..."  He doesn't understand, but the other man does. I whip my head to stare at him.  He stares back at me in horror.  Finally he shakes his head at me.  No, he means to tell me - No.    
   
This is an order. I'm not to mention it again.  Sparks.  I sense it - there is a jolt in my left arm and I flex my two fingers - all of them - all of them work.  I look down at the man who has just repaired my arm.  I know.  I don't know how I know but I do - Howard Stark.  I killed this man's father.  
   
I look back at the engineer - I'm so confused, why did I kill his father.  He is speaking now - saying that he is finished and that my arm is repaired, he is begging for the chance to do more.  To help me more.  I don't want to look at him, but I have to.  I thank him but my words are hollow.  I can't bear this.  Will they wipe me now? Do it now because I cannot stomach the thought that I have killed this man’s father without even knowing why.  
   
The two of them are talking again. They seem like friends.  I want to know what I am supposed to do next.  They say - or - they were saying things about me.  What to do with me.  That I couldn't be kept hidden.  That I needed to be helped.  The other one was agreeing with the man whose father I'd murdered.  "I know, I know," he said before walking over to sit beside me again.  
   
The one whose father I killed started at us for a moment, then said - "Well, my work here is done, its up to you now."  He walked away leaving us.  
   
I sat there staring at my hands.  I was beginning to understand - I wasn't going to be wiped.  I wasn't going back into cryo.   But, then what?  
   
"Bucky, Tony is right.  You and I, we can't keep running.  I need to take you someplace where you can get help."  
   
I said nothing.  How could I?  It wasn't registering.  If it wasn't cryo, where else would I be taken?  
   
"Will you come with me? I promise you, I will never let anyone hurt you again."  
   
.............I let him take me.  I still....... I don't know why I left him take me.  It doesn't make any sense, but, I think.... I think I do understand.  He was my mission.  He was the last mission that they had given me - but he gave me a name.


	2. Chapter 2

“I was in a car crash  
Or was it the war?  
Well, Ive never been quite the same  
Little white lies like I was there”  
\--Gary Numan, “Down in the Park”

 

What do you want me to say now?

\--Would you like to start with your name?--

..... I know what you want me say...... No. 

\--Thats alright, we can skip that for now. How are you adjusting?--

I’ve only been here for two days.

\--Do you feel safe here?--

...........Am I supposed to talk about the past now?

\--If that is what you’d like to talk about.---

It isn’t.

\--Would you like to talk a little more about the past few days? Maybe start where we left off?--

You mean New York?

\--Sure.--

Okay. Well we stayed there too long. I wanted to get out of that building. I didn’t want to face the engineer who’d fixed my arm, not after I figured out that I’d killed his father.

I wanted to leave, the other one did too, he kept on saying that he wanted to take me back to D.C. - back to another of his friends, but the engineer - he insisted that we stay. He kept telling the other one he had driven all night to bring me here, that he would be tired, at least to wait until cover of darkness. Mostly he wanted to wait for back up. He would have gone I think, but the other promised that his friend from D.C. would be enough to transport me back safely.

I wanted to leave, but he made us stay. Worse, he gave me clean clothes and they let me shower. It was hot, like on my missions when I went undercover. There water was never hot in the other place - it -

.........That building we were in, in New York. Windows, sunlight - so few people. I was on edge all day. I was relieved when they put me in the van that afternoon. The one with the wings. He was the one. I was expecting to be him, either him or the woman, but I’d not seen her in weeks.

Both of them kept talking in the car, not so much the one with the wings - Him. Always him. As if feeding me a steady stream of information - telling me over and over who I was supposed to be was going to help. I wanted them to shut up.

I was panicking again. I couldn’t breathe, I wanted to scream - all these images - these people - places - things that couldn’t be possible - fear - crushing me. I felt like I was dying - drowning in a sea of other people’s memories that couldn’t possibly be mine.

“Steve, this isn’t the time...”

At that I screamed - they had to pull the car over. My chest was on fire - I felt like a bomb just seconds away from exploding - for all I know, I could be! I don’t know what they put in me - what if I was and in that moment.....

I was curled up, clutching my knees to my chest by then - as if that would stop it. “Get away!” I screamed. But he never listens.

“Bucky, I’m here - I won’t let anything happen to you. I’m not going to leave you, you’re my friend and I’ll-”

“Don’t say it!”

“Okay, Okay, I won’t. But you know that its true don’t you?”

“Steve he isn’t ready for all this. You have to do it, please”

“Sam, just give him a minute,”

He did it. He actually shut up. I lay there in the back of the van with the weight of his hand on my human shoulder until I finally got my breathing under control. 

“I will obey.”

I went back to the seat, strapped myself in and didn’t move. No one said anything for a long time after that. We were reaching the city.

“Bucky, everything is going to be okay. I’m taking you to a safe place. There are people there who can help you.”

“I know what a mental institution is.”

That shut him up. At least for a while. Then he was back to talking again, and then he brought me here. Thats it.

\--And how do you think you are adjusting?--

.......I’ve only been here for two days. Or, one day - yesterday, one night and this morning.......... He was here most of yesterday. He stayed with me. He said he would be back today.

\--Thats good. So, do you feel safe here?--

...........Yes, I will - if he comes back like he said he would.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's POV of finding the Winter Soldier and trying to help bring back his old friend.  
> Steve's part is written by adventuresofbuckybear

Where do you want me to start, sir?

\--Anywhere you’d like to, Captain Rogers. --

Wasn’t Agent Romanoff’s report enough?

\--We have her full report on the events of the uprising at S.H.I.E.L.D. What we are interested in is what took place after that. --

I don’t see why that is relevant to–

\--Are you aware that some might consider that you are a traitor to this country? By aiding the terrorist known as The Winter Sol- --

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes! His name is James Barnes! He is an American war hero, a veteran and has been fighting for this country since before you were even born!

\--You misunderstand me, Captain Rogers. I only meant that by aiding The Wint- --

Sergeant Barnes!

\--By aiding Sergeant Barnes you have broken international laws and- --

He was the victim here! He had been kidnapped. Brainwashed. Tortured. He needed help.

\-- S.H.I.E.L.D. should have been contacted for- --

S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t exactly at its prime at that time.

\--There have been some recent obstacles. –

Is that what you call being secretly infiltrated by a criminal organization?

\--Mistakes were made. We are trying to rebuild. That is why we are trying to understand why you disobeyed orders by harboring a fugitive. We are trying to offer our help. --

No offense, sir, but S.H.I.E.L.D. is no longer trustworthy.

\--The W—Sergeant Barnes has been through a terrible ordeal. He needs psychological treatment. We can offer him a better chance. –

He’s been at that hospital for two days now. I told him I’d visit him today. I can’t break my promise. He’ll be waiting for me.

\--The doctors there are very competent. --

He needs me! My help, I mean. He trusts me. I have to go see him.

\--First you need to help me, Captain. Tell me about what happened. --

And then you’ll let me see Buc—Sergeant Barnes?

\--First I need your mission report. Please, Captain. There are those of us who are grateful for everything you have done. Please allow us to help you. --

It started after Nick Fury’s funeral….

I told Sam that he didn’t have to come with me. He knew where I was going, what I was going to do. He knew. He still said he’d go with me. Sam’s a good man. A good friend. He didn’t deserve to be saddled with this mess, but he just shrugged and told jokes until even I couldn’t help but laugh. Like I said, he’s a good man.

And useful in these sort of situations. He knew a lot of other vets who were having difficult times. Down on their luck. Displaced. They had their secret haunts. Places that only they knew about, where they felt safe.

We found Bucky there once. He saw me and ran. After we took down Project Insight, the city had been put on lockdown. At least he wouldn’t be getting out just yet. I just hoped we’d find him before he did something unthinkable.

Twice more we spotted Bucky, and lost him again. But I could see that he was moving slower than before. He was favoring his good arm and the metal one was oddly stiff. He was injured and that made things worse. He’d be even more dangerous when cornered. I was still feeling it from our last round and definitely was not looking forward to that again.

It was a long, rainy night when I had finally found him. He was wearing a shabby coat that hid most of his face. What I could see of him looked gaunt and feral. 

I stood a few feet away from him. Giving him his space. I didn’t want him to see me as a threat. 

“Bucky?” I said and I waited. Had they done something to him again? Made him forget again?

He looked at me, shoulders tense, ready to run at any moment. 

“Bucky, I can help you.”

"You can't help me." His voice was soft, broken. He turned to leave.

“Please, let me help you, Bucky.” 

"No. You can't help me. Every injury that you gave me I've healed on my own. But this you can't fix."

He held up him cyber arm. It groaned and I could see that some of the fingers were frozen in place. Once again he tried to escape into the crowd. I cut him off.

"You're right. I can't fix it, but I know someone who can. We’ll just go see him and he’ll fix your arm. That’s all. Nothing more. If you still want to leave after that, I won’t force you to stay. You have my word."

He stared at me for a long time; maybe trying to decide whether or not Captain America’s word was worth anything. Finally he agreed. He allowed me to usher him into the car without any resistance. He sat in perfect silence. I had seen that look on German soldiers when they’d surrender on the battlefield. Bucky had given up. It hurt to see him this way. All this time I would’ve given anything to see him again and now he was a stranger. We were strangers. 

I dialed my StarkPhone and got through to Tony’s private number.

“Billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist here at your service. How’s it hanging, Cap? Still a spangled popsicle? By the way, love what you’ve done in Washington! I heard Coulson’s working at a Starbucks now. Tell him I want a soy latte, with 2 ½ packs of Agave, with 2 pumps sugar free vanilla and make that a grande. Also throw in one pump of sugar-free hazelnut and tell him make sure it’s iced.”

“Stark,” I tried to say in a calm tone. It was a constant challenge with Tony. “I’m heading back to the Tower now. Can you meet me there tomorrow?”

“Is this a booty call, Captain? Not that I’m not flattered, believe me I am. Can’t say that I blame you either. Wait; did they even have booty calls back in the stone age? I’m shocked and a little turned on that you even know–“

“Can you focus, please?” A vein in my head had already started to throb. “It’s an emergency. I’m bringing in a friend and I need you to help him.”

“So, that’s a no to booty call, hun? You’re loss. What sort of friend?”

“A close one. And Tony, it’s vital that you keep the tower clear. Understand? This can’t wait.”

“Are you absolutely sure that this isn’t a booty–“ 

“Just do it! Please!”

“All right. Geez. All that time in the ice and you never learned to chill. Ok, Commander Rogers. Don’t forget my iced coffee!”

“O six hundred. Thanks, Tony.”

“Glad you’re not dead, Cap.” The line went blank.

One more quick call to Sam and I tucked the phone away. Bucky stayed silent. He hadn’t moved but I could see the slight flicker of his eyes checking the car for exits, or weapons.

"The man I was talking to earlier,” I said. “He is Howard Stark's son. You remember Howard Stark, don't you? Brash man. Genius really. Pilot, engineer, inventor. Kind of a show off but a decent guy. Rich but never arrogant. He was a good man. He flew the plane that took to this HYDRA base where you and about 400 other US soldiers were being held prisoner. He risked his own life to help me. If it wasn’t for him–“ I trailed off. Bucky didn’t like he was glad to have survived. 

We drove all night and reached Stark– Avengers Tower by dawn. Thankfully Tony had kept his work and it was empty when we arrived.

"Do you remember Howard Stark?" I asked again.

 

“Yes,” he answered. His voice was flat. I could tell that he was lying but didn’t press it. 

“We’re going to see his son, Anthony Stark. You may know him as Iron Man. He’s a lot like his father. Same brilliant mind, same smart mouth, fast talker. Also a show off but also a decant guy. A good man. I like him. You will too.”

The doors of the elevator closed and everything changed. Bucky was shaking, his breathing became erratic and he was looking around like a caged animal. 

“Hey, hey,” I said. “It’s okay. We’re just heading up to the top floors. Tony’s just is going to check you out. That’s all. I promised you, Bucky. Stay calm, soldier. It’s all going to be okay.” I wanted to rub my hand on his back, like he used to do for me when my asthma would crush my lungs and I was afraid I’d wouldn’t have strength to draw another full breath again. He was muttering to himself, something about a museum.

The doors opened and Stark was waiting for us.

"So, how 'bout that? Another fossil. This him? Natasha mentioned that you were going after one of your barbershop quartet buddies. Guess you found him."

“Stark, not now.”

"Hey, you were the one insisting this couldn't wait."

“Just please take a look at him, all right? There was a battle and I–I had to–he didn’t know, or he wouldn’t have. I know him, he wouldn’t have, and I wouldn’t have–“

“Alright, alright. Did you drink my coffee or something? Come on inside. Make yourselves at home. We’ve made a few upgrades to Avengers Tower, as you can see.”

I smirked. “Really? That’s what you’re calling it?”

“What? Still just a big, ugly building to you? What’s it going to take to finally impress you, Cap?

“You help my friend and I’ll be plenty impressed, Stark.” 

He was wrong. I was impressed. This lab was nothing like the dark, crammed one they used for Operation Rebirth. And not like the cold, generic one on the helicarrier. Stark lab was, well, cozy. Real spiffy. Cool! That’s what they said nowadays. The walls were all glass windows and there were strange, whirling machines moving here and there. And cars. It looked like Tony had been working on the blue convertible again. It made me smile.

A clicking at my side caught my attention. 

“Hello Dum-E!” I said and held out my hand to greet the little bot. It was positively shacking with excitement. “I’ve missed you too, pal. Has Tony been overworking you again?”

“Stop flirting with the Captain!” Tony barked. “Honestly, he doesn’t act this way around anyone else. Don’t know why you get him all riled up. Maybe Coulson added something to his programming. And lord knows you do not need any more fanboys. Anyway, you got me here at this ungodly hour so what….. Oh… OH! Hello you sexy thing!”

“Tony! That is not appropriate!”

But Tony had not meant Bucky. He wasn’t even looking at Bucky anymore. He was fixated on the metal arm.

“That is beautiful craftsmanship! A bit out dated, but what isn’t compared to Stark Industries? Bet this was top gear back in Siberia, or wherever. Cybernetic prosthetic. Adamanteum alloy perhaps? How far below the skin does this go? I’m betting most of the left rib cage and spine. Let me get him into the tube so I can get a full body scan. Or better yet, if you can help me remove the whole thing and I can–“ Tony reached for the arm and was send sprawling into a table. 

“Hey!” I said as calmly as I could. “None of that now. It’s okay. We’re okay."

"What the hell!? Hey Cap - you said he would be ok."

"Stark, I'm sorry. He didn’t mean it. This is Bucky. Bucky Barnes. My friend. You made him nervous is all.”

“I made HIM nervous?”

“You were talking about putting him in a tube and removing his– of course he over reacted.”

“I was trying to help!”

“You were talking about him like an engine! He’s a human being! He’s had too many people treat him like an object for too long.”

“You don’t like my bedside manner, take him to a spa! Or better yet a repair shop. If you think I’m not smart enough to–“

“This isn’t about you! This man has been through hell and all I’m asking for is that you show a little humanity for once.”

“Great! Let me get to repairing the Terminator so he’ll be all bright and shiny when he slits our throats!”

I was quickly losing whatever control I had left. “He’s not going to– he wouldn’t!”

“That’s not what it looked like on the news in Washington!”

“He wasn’t–that wasn’t him. He’s not that way!”

“Forgive me if I don’t want to help some lunatic murder another one of my friends and–“

“DON’T CALL HIM THAT!” 

“DON’T BE STUPID, CAP! YOU SHOULD NEVER-“

“I will obey.”

Tony and I fell silent. I hadn’t realized that we had been shouting until I hear that small voice. Like a lost child. I felt ashamed. Ashamed of my own anger and feeling of helplessness.

"Fine,” Tony said. “But if he tries anything again I'm suiting up."

I nodded. Bucky was still tense but he allowed us to take off his jacket and shirt. Tony was still in awe of the arm but he somehow managed to control himself. And he went to work. His hands moved with the precision of a surgeon. They were a blur of sparks and light and wires and gears. Tony was an artist, I had realized not for the first time.

“You might not have gotten that Terminator reference,” Tony said while he worked, his eyes behind a pair of dark welders goggles. “It was from this movie where–“

“I saw it, Tony,” I said. “You made me watch it with you.”

“Right, right. And the second one two, yeah? Forget everything after that. They were crap! Did you like them?”

“Not especially. Movie night is fun though. I enjoyed that.”

He paused for a moment, and then continued on. “Yeah, well you’ve missed a few since you’ve been gone, Cap. I’ve had no one to watch with save Barton and Bruce and all they want to see are National Lampoon films.”

Tony continued talking, unaware of Bucky who had suddenly gone pale and was trembling.

I sat down next to him “You know what I miss? Baseball games.” Bucky slowly glanced at me. I put a hand over his flesh arm. He didn’t pull away. “I mean, they’re alright now, but I don’t know. Something’s missing from back in the day. It was a big deal, you know? We waited all week just to take the subway over to see the Dodgers. They’re in Los Angeles now, if you can believe it. Don’t get me started on that one because I’m still peeved about it. Anyway, there was this one time when you made us sneak in so we wouldn’t have to pay the sixty cents to get in. Said we could spend it all on hot dogs and beer instead. Never told you so but I ran back to pay the box office before we left.”

Bucky was watching me now. His expression did not change, so I continued on talking about that day. There was a loud whirring sound and the arm jerked. Bucky moaned and tried to twist away again.

"Bucky, it’s okay, you can trust Tony. I don't know anyone else who could do a better job than him."

"How is this attached?” Tony asked and moved the join at the elbow in a circular motion. “Does this hurt?"

"Yes," Bucky said, without emotion.

“I need to remove it to get a better-“

"Not now," I said.

"You asked me to fix him. Let me scan him. I can remove this one, machine out the parts -"

"No, just take care of the basics, we can worry about that later."

“Stark,” Bucky said.

“That’s right,” I said. Was he remembering something? “We knew Howard Stark. Remember Bucky? That time at the border, he fixed that gun in seconds. Howard Stark. This his Howard Stark's son."

What little color left completely drained form Bucky’s face as he looked up at Tony. “I’m sorry.”

Suddenly it was as if I was falling out of that hellicarrier all over again. Zola in that secret base, he had implied– but he could have been lying. Could have been, and yet, and yet– Howard… Tony’s parents… Howard had been a good man….

Tony had not picked up on it. I signaled to Bucky. It was an old army gesture to keep silent. The soldier in him seemed to understand. Later, I would deal with it later. Tony did not deserve to hear it this way. Bucky needed help now. That was his first mission.

“This should do the trick for now.” Tony closed up a panel in the forearm with flourish. “Come back sometime and I’ll do a complete upgrade for you.”

I exhaled. “Thanks Tony. I owe you one.”

“And yet I remain ice coffee-less. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to function without the proper amount of caffeine per hour? You boys planning on hanging around? Maybe exchanging old war stories round the campfire? I can install a camp fire you know.”

“I’m not sure–“

“You’re floor is still all set up for you. I, that is, I sent Pepper to pick you up a few new things. Clothes and skivvies and pop tats. Do you like pop tarts? Or was that Thor? Anyway, it might be better if you hang out here for a bit. Shouldn’t be running around just yet. Even Terminators need time to recharge. Engineer’s orders”

“Thank you, Tony. I–“

“Pepper. Thank her for– Well, my work here is done, its up to you now." He walked away.

"Bucky, Tony is right. You and I, we can't keep running. I need to take you someplace where you can get help." He said nothing. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Catch a shower, hot meal and some rest. Okay? Will you come with me? I promise you, I will never let anyone hurt you again."

He followed me. I still wasn’t sure why, but he did. He was my mission and I couldn’t fail him again.


	4. Chapter 4

When they pumped out your guts  
And filled you full of those pills  
You were never quite right  
Deserving all the chills  
They say the worst is over  
Kicked it over and ran  
Then they ask what went wrong  
When they turn you on again  
\--Better Than Ezra “ Desperately Wanting” 

I should have known what Tony Stark had meant by “a few things.” My old quarters looked like a department store on Fifth Avenue. Every surface was covered with boxes and bags filled with new shirts, pants, shoes, shiny cufflinks, monogramed bathrobes. There was an entire rack of expensive looking suits, all custom tailored to my size. How had Stark known that? Never mind, Stark seemed to know everything about everything.

At the center of the room was a gigantic wreath of—dear lord—red, white and blue flowers shaped like my shield, and a banner that read: “Thanks for saving the world again, Cap.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. My headache was not getting any better.

Bucky was taking in the lavish scene around us but still said nothing.

“Tony, uh, like I said, he’s a good man but a bit of a show off.” I hoped I was not blushing as badly as I felt I was. I tossed aside a few things until I found some clean pajamas, towels and toiletries. “Here, the bathroom is that one. How about you take a hot shower first? I’ll get us something to eat and then we can rest for a bit. Okay? You can take the bed. Just stay in this room. No one will bother you. It’s safe here.”

He was still unresponsive. “Okay, pal? Anything that you need? Something I can bring you from the kitchen?”

Bucky looked as me like he couldn’t understand what I was saying. He accepted the clothes and walked into the bathroom without a word. I was almost afraid to leave, worried that in that one moment I did Bucky would disappear for good this time. When I heard the water start I decided to take a chance and headed to the kitchen.

Tony was waiting there for me. Again, not surprised.

“Hang on,” he said. “Let me put you on speaker. There’s somebody who wants to say something to you, Cap.”

There was a buzz and then– “STEVE! YOU DUMB SONOFA****! WHAT THE ****! YOU ****ING FOUND HIM! YOU WENT TO NEW YORK? WITHOUT ****ING TELLING ME?”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” I said. Headache was definitely getting worse. This was going to be a full migraine before long. “I had to make sure that Bucky was okay.”

“DO YOU HAVE ANY ****ING IDEA WHAT I THOUGHT HAD HAPPENED WHEN YOU DIDN’T CHECK IN? I THOUGHT HE’D GOTTEN YOU! THAT YOU WERE A SMEAR ON THE SIDEWALK SOMEWHERE! I THOUGHT WE WERE ****ING PARTNERS, MAN!”

“Nice new friends you’ve made, Cap,” Tony said smugly and drank a shot of what smelled like expensive whiskey. “Are there any of them who are not trying to kill you?”

“Tony, this is Sam W–“

“We were introduced. He sounds nice. You should invite him to the clubhouse sometime.”

“How did he even get this number? I only gave him mine.”

“This is your number. The second you arrived I had JARVIS transfer all your calls over to my direct line.”

Now I really did turn red. “You what? JARVIS! How dare you!”

“My apologies, Captain, “ said the AI, ever polite. “But it was Sir’s direct order. And may I say, welcome home, Captain Rogers. It is most wonderful to have you back.”

“Thank you, JARVIS, but I don’t appreciate having my private phone calls hijacked! Stark, you just can’t–“

“Concern!” Tony said in his nonchalant tone. “In case you didn’t notice you’re friends are concerned for you. No offense, but you may not be thinking too clearly right now. You have you’re depression-era buddy back and that’s great and all, but you can’t ignore the fact that this isn’t Little Orphan Annie you’re adopting. In case you’re wondering, Little Orphan Annie was this movie–“

“I know who it is! And it was first a comic strip back in 1924!” I rubbed my eyes again.

“The point is,” Sam chimed in. “We had discussed this. When it comes to our friends our judgment can sometimes get clouded. You may have good intentions in mind, but Barnes needs professional help. I told you, I know where he can get treatment. They have experience with veterans suffering from PTSD.”

“Hey, if it’s a good hospital you need, I have several I can recommend,” said Tony. “Stayed at a few of them personally. You know, back in the day, I used to party too much and had a few… problems. More recently I had this small phase of stress disorder and insomnia. There’s this one place that had pools and a five star restaurant. I can have Pepper book a room right now.”

“Could everyone please just stop!”? I sat down in the nearest chair. “I know he needs help. I know! But when I found him and he was hurt and he looked like he was ready to run. All I could think of was getting him somewhere safe and I knew Tony could help fix him. I didn’t want to take the chance if he lost control. I couldn’t put you at risk, Sam.”

“Well you don’t get to make those decisions. I’m on the way to pick up your dumb-asses.”

“Sam, you don’t have–“

“Too late. I’ll be there in another hour and then we are all heading back to Washington and we are going to that hospital I told you about. You can’t take chances on something this serious. It’s for the best.”

“Alright, Sam. Alright.”

The call ended. I put my head in my hands. I couldn’t fail Bucky again. I couldn’t. 

“Hey,” Tony put a hand on my shoulder. “We are just trying to help, you know.”

“I know. He… he’s been put through so much. He’s been locked in a lab for half his life. They experimented on him, stripped away everything that he was and made him into a weapon. What if putting him in a hospital makes it worse? He’s my brother. I thought he was dead, but what they did… what they did is almost worse. He… he doesn’t even know me.”

“So, that’s the guy, hun? The one who’s worth ten of me?”

I lifted my head. “Tony, that was so long ago. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Hey, I get it. The whole world knows about Captain America and Bucky Barnes. My dad used to tell me stories about all the amazing things the Howling Commandos did during the war. All the lives you saved. Hell, growing up every boy wanted to be Bucky.” He patted my shoulder again. “Seems only right that we try to make some of it up to you, even though we know it’ll never be enough. Anything you need, you got it.”

“Tony, that’s – you don’t have to– this isn’t–“ I knew I should tell him the truth. It was the right thing to do. If the Winter Soldier really had killed Howard… Tony had the right to know. “I have to tell you…”

“Yeah?”

“That…. That I… I want to say thank you, Tony. For everything.”

He continued to stare at me and chuckled. “Always so surprised that I can be generous.”

“Not generous. Selfless. It’s a good look on you.”

He finished his drink. “Not so sure about that. Press is saying that I’m going soft. You really heading back out there?”

“Looks like it. Sam’s a good friend. He works with wounded veterans. I trust him.”

“That’s good enough for me. Any chance that you’ll be coming back this way again anytime soon? What with S.H.I.E.L.D. being at the bottom of the Potomac River, the Avengers will always have a place for you.”

“I have to see how this goes first. But if any aliens happen to attack you can easily reach me.”

“You know, cause Dum-E misses you. Dumb bucket of bolts keeps dropping things when you stay away too long. I think he gets bored.”

“Yeah, I’ve missed him too. I’ve missed it here. I have to do this before I can start thinking about anything else.”

“Just promise me that if things get hairy, you’ll be sensible and call us this time. I can suit up and–“

“Thought you blew them all up?”

“Well that wouldn’t have been very sensible, would it? What with the Chitauri, the Mandarin and HYDRA running around, I’d be a fool to not keep one, or a dozen, lying around. Just in case,” he grinned and winked.

“I’ll bet Ms. Potts was not too thrilled about that.”

His smile faded a bit. “That’s a story for another night. Well, I’ll let you get back to Operation Save Bucky. I meant it about calling more often, Cap. Call it a team-building exercise.” He got up and started to walk away.

“You are going soft.”

“Old man.”

“Whippersnapper.”

I hated lying to him. Tony, I already owed the man so much. My debt to Howard could never be repaid, and now– Another time. I’d tell him another time. I heated up some soup and loaded a tray with some snacks. I returned to the room and froze. The shower had stopped but the room was empty. I looked around in a panic. Had he run? JARVIS would have altered me if someone had tried to leave the building. Had Bucky found a way to disable–?

Then I saw that the blankets had been pulled off the bed. I walked around the side and saw a cocoon on the floor. Wary eyes peered up at me. I was able to breath again.

“The bed too soft, hun? I did the same thing when I first woke up, after the– Everything was so odd. You would think after all those dingy apartments and sleeping on hard, cold ground in France a bed like this would’ve felt like heaven. Funny thing, I kept thinking I was going to sink right through it and fall, and keep on falling.” I shivered.

He was still looking up at me, like a cat unsure of what to do. “Took me a long time, and honestly I still haven’t gotten used to all this.” I gestured around the room. “Feels a lot like Little Orphan Annie, y’know? Do you remember that old comic we used to read? Apparently they made it into a movie. We can watch it sometime, maybe?”

I placed the stray of food down next to him. “Have some. There’s a lot more. Then you can rest. That other friend of mine, Sam, he was the one in the wings back at the heicarrier. Anyway, we want to take you somewhere where we can help you. I’ll be with you every step of the way. It won’t be anything that you don’t want to do. No more mind wipes. No more going into cryo, ever! I’ll never allow you to be hurt like that again.”

He looked at the food and back at me. He was hungry but was still wary. It wasn’t until I stepped into the bathroom until I saw a hand dart out and grabbed the mug of soup. By the time I returned, the tray had been cleaned and Bucky was sound asleep.

A few hours later Sam arrived. He was still angry, but some of it faded when he saw Bucky freshly showered and in clean clothes. His hair was still long and his face scraggly. Still, it was a start.

“Hey man,” Sam said and extended his hand. Bucky didn’t shake it but Sam did not seem affronted. “No hard feelings, but you owe me a new set of wings. The big guy here tell you about the little drive we’re going on? You okay with that?” A slight nod. “Good. I know it’s rough, but we’re going to get through it. You’re not alone.”

Sam had a van waiting for us. I was grateful that it had large windows. Bucky would be able to see the sky. He seemed to like that back in Tony’s lab. Bucky settled into the backseat. Sam turned on the radio. Of course he’d have a playlist ready for our trip.

A few hours in and Bucky still had not said anything. He was starting to grow agitated, rocking back and forth in his seat. His hands clenching open and shut, as if searching for a weapon. I started to talk about the old apartment, the one he and I had shared when we had first gotten out of the orphanage. 

“It was just a hole in the wall really. Four flights up and lights that only worked half the time. Back then I couldn’t make it up those stairs without my lungs burning. Got really bad in the winter when there was barely any heat. They didn’t know too much about asthma. Told me that smoking cigarettes would help. Can you believe it? Lucky we couldn’t afford them often, and you took to them better than I did, Buck. You said they made you look like Cary Grant. The girls thought so, at least. There were a lot of girls.”

Bucky was getting worse. He was shifting around now, pulling at his seatbelt.

“You okay, Buck?”

“Steve,” said Sam, “Maybe this isn’t the time...”

Bucky screamed. The seatbelt snapped like paper in his metal hand. Maybe Tony had been right about it not being the best idea to fix it. Sam pulled over and Bucky had crawled into a ball on the van floor. He was shaking himself to pieces. I slowly moved towards him.

“Get away!” Bucky shouted.

“Bucky, “ I said. “I’m here - I won’t let anything happen to you. I’m not going to leave you, you’re my friend and I’ll-”

“Don’t say it!”

“Okay, Okay, I won’t. But you know that it’s true don’t you?”

“Steve,” Sam said quietly. “He isn’t ready for all this. You have to do it, please”

He was referring to the tranquilizer I kept in my pocket. “Sam, just give him a minute.”

“Okay but keep calm, man, okay? I’ve seen folk get bad like this before. Let’s be quiet and let this pass.”

It was difficult but I did as he asked. I remained silent with my hand on Bucky’s shoulder and let him ride his terrors out until he was calm again. When his breathing was back to normal, I helped him to sit up.

He looked at me, eyes wide and terrified, like that day when the helicarrier was burning all around us. “I will obey,” he said.

We continued on in silence for a long time after that.

“Bucky,” I said. “Everything is going to be okay. I’m taking you to a safe place. There are people there who can help you.”

“I know what a mental institution is,” he answered. No emotion, just acceptance.

“I know you don’t have to believe me, but I meant what I said. I’m not going anywhere without you. Not without you, remember?” I know he didn’t, but I had to remember it for both of us.

Two and a half days later and I finally got whatever was left of S.H.I.E.L.D. off my back. I should have known they’d track us down. That they’d know about the hospital. I gave them my word that I’d take full responsibility for everything. They would be watching, I knew that. But like Tony had said, the whole world knew about Captain America and Bucky Barnes. They did not want to be responsible for any further damage to what had once been a noble organization. If they wanted it to be that once again, the last thing they wanted was to piss off Captain America.

I bought two corn beef sandwiches and went to the visiting ward. Bucky was there and gave the tiniest glimpse of a smile. 

It was a good start.


	5. Chapter 5

I don’t have much to say right now.

\--Would you like to start with your name?--

Fine. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

\--Does that mean anything to you?--

No. Its just a name. Its what everyone wants me to say. Its what he keeps telling me.

\--Can you tell me his name?--

His name? His name. His name is Steve Rogers.

\--Does that mean anything to you?

I can read. He is Captain America.

\--Did you read that at the museum?--

Yes.

\--Would you like to talk about the museum today?--

Okay. I went. I read things. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t. Sometimes... I don’t don’t know what to say. 

I avoided it at first, but, I couldn’t. It was like I scab - I just had to pick at it. There was the anxiety of moving in daylight - that I would be seen, but that instinct was nearly overridden by the thought that... I would see.

I did. Physical pain, inside of me, because it was there, just like he said. The names, etched in glass, projected on screen. Images. His image - what was supposed to be mine. He looked more like a boy than a man. Not me. It couldn’t be me. He looked, focused. He - knew who he was. He looked healthy, he looked confident, he was - happy. 

He had something that I don’t. He had a life. He had friends - he was laughing at something that only they knew and I..... I’ve never had that. I could never have that, life.

Fear, pain give way. Numbness. Disbelief. It is there. In print. It can’t be denied. We have the same face, but it isn’t real. It isn’t. It couldn’t be.

I’m not him. 

They asked if they could cut my hair yesterday. I wouldn’t let them. They can try to make me look like him all they want. I won’t....

I don’t want to be him. I can’t. I want to be what I am, I don’t want it - its too much. If I were him, I would be...human. How can I be human? How can I - all those things, all those feelings,this-

 

And he... He wants to much for me to be that boy. I won’t. I won’t be that.... because I - it scares me more than anything. What that would mean....

I’m not him. No one understands. You can’t make me be that man. I’m sick of it. 

I’m sick of him calling me by that name. I’m sick of this place. I’m sick of everyone treating me like a child - like I’m some feral animal - one misstep and I’ll strike.

You don’t understand. I’m the one. I’m the asset. I was created for a reason - I exist for a reason. And I’m good at it. I know more ways to kill a person than you can ever even dream of. I can do it so silent and so swift that you will never see me. I cannot be killed, I cannot be caught. I’m faster and stronger than any fighter you could ever find. I’ve killed scores of people, and you know what - I liked it.

And then he - he fucking shows up. But he - he has to fight back. 

Most go silent. Some run, some fight - but when I attack a target - they stay down. Poison, bullets - my hands - it doesn’t matter. They all end up the same.

But he - he fucking - I had to kill him. That is all I had to do was kill him. But he - I couldn’t even hit him half the time. I was so angry. I hit harder - I was losing my edge - my rage was getting the better of me - I hit harder he got back up - he broke my arm - I wanted to slam his face through the glass - but he fucking won’t shut up. Again and again with this “Bucky,” shit.

Shut UP!

I have a shot and I take it - it isn’t a lethal hit and I’m so angry with myself. Everything starts to shake - the ground goes out from under me - I feel the pain before I understand. I’m pinned my a massive metal piece of the ship and I can’t lift it. I’m trapped - falling. I know what this means but I don’t want to die. I try to throw it off me but I can’t. I don’t want to die...

I see him - and I know what he is going to do - and I want him to do it, please - but I say nothing. He lifts the metal enough for me to get out. Why. But I knew he would. Now all I have to do is kill him. 

What does he mean - why is he saying these things - why do I feel.

Why. I hit him in the face over and over - I want to kill him but I can’t stop hitting him and he - he just.... speaks.

This stabbing pain in my heart that I can’t explain - this rush of emotions - feelings that I’m not supposed to have. I’m a killer. I’m not supposed to feel.

I watch him fall. He’ll die. My mission... it is done.

But its wrong. How can it feel this wrong? Falling faster, I can jump now. I can save myself but it isn’t enough. I can’t. I don’t know why but I have to save him - something powerful - I this surge of desperation - I had to - as if everything depended on it.

I crashed through the water - it had only been seconds since I’d watched him fall but it felt so much longer - my lungs burned - the shape of a figure - I can do this. I kicked as hard as I could - my broken arm was nearly useless - my other held tight to him - struggling with my weight and his. I broke the surface. The shore - it wasn’t far.

Finally I could walk - dragging him - I never looked back. I didn’t want to. I dropped him at the edge, just enough no longer in the water. Only then did I look back to see if he was breathing. He was. It was enough - and that was it. 

I didn’t want to stay - I had to get away from him - from everything that I felt, from everything that he’d made me feel. 

I was supposed to kill him. I wanted to kill him. 

Oh god, what if its true? What if they did take that boy in the photos and turn him into me? 

And he, tried to save me - what have I done?


	6. Chapter 6

 

\--They tell me you had a difficult night. Would you like to talk about it.--

I remember things.

\--It's alright. Don’t be afraid. Tell me what you remembered--

........Snow.

Snow - howling, Cylcone, the car - I’m out of bullets. I’m out of bullets and I have to think. I can do this. Zola - everything is moving so fast - I have to do something but he is there. He gives me a gun and I get back up. Metal, explosions - just metal crashing into metal - flash of light and heat - impact - my body slams hard into the wall. I’m holding on trying not to fall to the floor but something is wrong. 

Blinding white light - freezing, rushing wind - I’m outside. I’m outside the train. I don’t know what happened but I’m not in the train anymore - fear forces my fingers to hold tighter to the metal rod - I won’t let go. I still don’t understand what is happening but I won’t fall. I know that - I won’t fall - I can’t.

Steve!

His voice - I can hear him. I can reach him. I try over and over.

Metal shudders again and again 

Something is wrong - I keep trying. Something is wrong - so cold - I keep trying to reach him - my arm wont move, but I wont fall. I see him staring down at me. I see the fear and desperation in his eyes. Don’t be stupid Steve, I’m fine - I won’t fall. I can reach him now. I want to do - I want to do it - for him. 

It never happened. I’m fine, I’m fine. 

I’m so cold, I’m so cold. I keep trying to reach for him. I won’t fall - I can do this - I can but something is wrong. My arm won't move - something is wrong with my arm - I want so badly to reach for him, but I’m so cold. I won't fall. It didn’t happen - it isn’t real - I can hear him. I can hear him.

Why am I here?

Why can’t I feel anything but cold?

Why can’t I move my arm?

I don’t want to open my eyes. Everything is so fuzzy I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what's going on.

Steve.  
Please. Where are you? Where am? I didn’t fall, I didn’t fall. Please help me.

I didn’t fall.

 

No. Not like this. I never let go. Metal shuddered. The sharp shattering beneath my hands - the bar. I feel it tear free and I’m falling.

I keep reaching for it - as if that will stop it but I’m falling. I hear Steve - I can still hear him screaming. I fall forever until the only sound left is my own scream.

A blur of snow and stars, but it was day.

It was daylight when I fell so why is it so dark now?

Where am I? Why am I still alive? What's happening to me - why am I still alive?

Every bone in my body feels shattered. I can’t move. It's so cold. I can’t feel my arm.

It's daylight when I open my eyes again. Why am I here? What's happening to me? Why is this happening to me? Let me die, please let me die. My body is broken, why am I still here..... Steve...

I drift in an out of consciousness. Snow, wind, howling - that word and what it means. But after an age even the wind stops. Then there is nothing but silence - the sound of snow falling, my own ragged breathing.

I’m okay. I’m going to be okay. Steve will come for me. He always does - Steve will come for me.

He came for me before. He gave me the gun...the gun, I can almost feel it in my hand but...

No. I don’t want to look. I’m so afraid.

Stars. Black, endless, lifeless sky. Steve will come for me. Frozen. I can’t feel. Why am I still alive? Steve will come for me.

Days, weeks, hours - I don’t know. This half life, never fully awake, this is all some bad dream. But it isn’t. This is a nightmare, and it's really happening.

The fear ever persistent in the pit of my stomach. I don’t want to look, but I already know.

My arm is gone.

The sight of it when I finally look down. I know I’m sobbing, but no one can hear me.

Steve will come for me. Time just becomes ageless, no sound but the wind.

Sleeping, numbness I want it to take me. I’m trapped in my broken body. Sleep if I cannot die let me sleep.

The sound - footsteps. Unmistakable - human men - fear, before I even hear their voices, because I know.

No. No please don’t take me back there. No, I escaped, Steve he-

He never came.

Help me please, don’t take me. I’m dead. I’m dead. Please leave me here, can’t you see that I’m dead?

But I’m not dead. A room people - men voices - drugs I can’t control... I cannot see but for colors, shapes lights shadows of figures.

Steve.

Maybe I am dead. Finally maybe I am. So much - it must have killed me.

I’m find now I can’t feel pain, just a haze lights. I think I can even more my arm again, I can’t really feel it, but my fingers.

My hands.

Metal. 

I have a metal arm.

and I’m not dead.

........

\--Sargent Barnes? James? You're here now. You’re safe--

............I’m sorry...... 

\--It's all right. Can I get you something, water?--

..... I’m sorry - I’m sorry - please don’t sedate me - please - I’ll do anything I’ll stop sobbing I swear, I’ll do anything please don’t sedate me!

\--It’s all right, James - no one is going to do that.--

Steve - please let me see him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky starts to open up more to Steve, but not all of it is good.

Hello, hello  
Anybody out there? Cause I don't hear a sound  
Alone, alone  
I don't really know where the world is but I miss it now

I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name  
Like a fool at the top of my lungs  
Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright  
But it's never enough

Cause my echo, echo  
Is the only voice coming back  
Shadow, shadow  
Is the only friend that I have

Listen, listen  
I would take a whisper if that's all you had to give  
But it isn't, is it?  
You could come and save me and try to chase the crazy right out of my head  
––Jason Walker “Echo”

 

“Back again?”

“Course. Couldn’t eat all this myself.” I passed a sandwich and soda can over to Bucky. He glared at me for a moment. “It’s not poisoned, or drugged. Just like the last one, and the one before that.” 

He scowled at me but tore into it anyway. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

“Nah. Just got a little sidetracked is all. You don’t have to worry. I’m here now.”

He shrugged and continued to eat.

“How is it?” Another shrug. “This one’s called a Meatball Sub. It’s not bad. Is there something you’d like to try for tomorrow? I can bring you a steak if you like. I’ve been meaning to try Thai food. Wanna have a go?” Another shrug. I took a sip from my own water bottle. “Yeah, I didn’t care too much about food in the beginning either. Back when I first woke up after– everything tasted funny, y’know? Had a metallic tinge that lingered at the back of my throat that I couldn’t shake. People said I was crazy, imagining it, but I swear that the food just tasted different. It’s better, mind, but there are so many chemicals and what they call ‘preservatives’ to enhance flavor that I–“

“Don’t.”

“Sorry, what’s that?”

“Don’t you ever shut up?”

“I’m not always such a chatterbox. This must be how people feel around Tony.” He noticeably winced at that name. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I–“

“And don’t call me that! You’re always saying it! I don’t know it!”

Sam had warned me about bad moments like this. I shook my head at an orderly. He knew not to alert the twenty S.H.I.E.L.D. officers stationed outdoors. There was no problem here. Not yet.

“Alright. What would you like me to call you then?” He blinked. Maybe even he didn’t know. “What did your handlers call you?”

“The asset.”

I tried not to vomit. Or cry. “That can’t be all. Didn’t they give you a name?” 

“The American.”

A long, long moment passed. I tired not to picture how I wanted to hunt down every single monster that did this to my friend and–and, best not to think about it. “How about James? Want me to call you that?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t feel right.”

“What do they call you here?”

“That. Or Sergeant Barnes.”

“And do either of those feel right?”

“Stop. Stop trying to bring him back! I saw him. The face in the museum, the one that looked like me. He was someone else! Just stop!”

I sat back, giving him his space. He was retreating back into himself, rocking back and forth in his seat.

“Are you cold?”

“Snow…” he muttered, still rocking, his arms locked around himself as if to fend off an invisible storm. “Howling… a train. Was there a train?”

Now it was my turn to shiver. “Yes.”

“And I fell.”

“Yes. You did.”

“I tried to reach for you. I fell.”

My eyes began to blur. “I tried to save you. I did. I did try. Every night I watch you fall. I try to get to you in time, but it ‘s like I’m moving through quicksand. This new body was supposed to make thing better! But I swear, Buck, I swear I’d trade it back. I’d be that skinny, asthmatic kid again. Hell, I’d give up my legs, my eyes, all of it if it meant that I could’ve saved you!”

“You didn’t come for me.” His tone was empty. It was a statement, without emotion. “I thought you would. You did it before.”

“I didn’t know! I would have if I had thought– if there had been the slightest hope…. When I saw you fall–heard you scream…. They said no one could have survived and I didn’t want to believe it, but…. I had died at that moment too. My body went on for another day or two, got the mission done, but I wasn’t really there. Not after that. It’s like someone else was moving me around until the moment I hit the ice and it was all over.”

He looked up at me. His eyes were red and full of tears as well. “I–I think I know what that feels like.”

“Buck–“

“Don’t.”

“James? Is that okay?” 

He shrugged. “For now.”

“I am so sorry. I–“

“I don’t want to talk about that now. Not now.”

“Okay. I understand.” I really did. He was mad at me for not saving him, for failing him. He hadn’t forgiven me. I couldn’t blame him. Because I would never, could never forgive myself.

“Want to try Pad Thai tomorrow?”

He shrugged. “What is it exactly?”


	8. Chapter 8

“Say your name.  
Try to speak as clearly as you can.  
You know everything gets written down.  
Nod your head.  
Just in case they could be watching.  
With their shiny satellite.

Turn it up.  
Listen to the shit they pump into your head.  
Filling you with apathy.  
Hold your breath.  
Wait until you know the time is right on time.  
The end is near.

I hope they cannot see.  
The limitless potential  
Living inside of me.  
To murder everything.  
I hope they cannot see  
I am the great destroyer.”

\--Nine Inch Nails, “The Great Destroyer”

 

\--Are you ready to start, James?--

Okay.

\--How are you feeling about your name today?--

Its just a name.  Do you want me to talk about yesterday?

\--I was hoping you’d want to talk about it.--

I’m not sure what to say about the hearing.

\--How do you think it went?--

You did most of the talking.  You and Steve.  He told me, he told me that he’d been going - that was why he hadn’t visited.  He told me when my time came to appear that he would be there with me...

\--And how do you feel about the outcome?  James?  Why are you shaking?--

......I don’t know.  They cleared me.  They shouldn’t have.

\--Do you understand why they cleared you?--

I was under their control.  It shouldn’t matter.  I still killed all those people.  I nearly killed Steve, more than once.  He should have left me.  He should have left me pinned under all that metal and left me to die on that helicarrier.

What if I do it again?  What if - what if after all that they did to me, what if there is more?  What if there is more that I don’t know about?  They erased my mind - they erased everything that you all say that I was and reprogramed me.  What if they can still get to me?  What if I can be reactivated remotely?  What I suddenly slip and try to kill Steve again?

He should have let me die!  He could have killed me - he should have killed me.  How can he be so sure that I’m safe to be around?  He just, comes here every day and sits with me for hours.  He keeps bringing me food - as if I care at all what I eat.  I don’t even like eating.  I hate eating - I do it because I have to and it hurts to do it.  I’m so worried sick all the time that I can’t even eat - I have to force myself to do it when he brings me food.  I only eat it for his sake.  I can see how desperate he is for me to like the things that he brings me and part of me doesn’t...

He is such an idiot - you all are.  I’m so afraid - I’m so afraid of what they could have done to me.  You are all so focused on what they did to my memories - because they wiped me over and over and turned me into someone else.  What about what they’ve done to my body?

Do you even know what they put into me?  I don’t.  I don’t know what drugs they pumped me full of.  I don’t know what runs through my veins - it looks like blood but how can I be certain of that?  I don’t even know how my arm works.  I don’t know how much of my body is even human.  What if - they put this thing in me -  what if there is a kill switch?  What if someone somewhere has only to enter a few lines of code to kill me dead on the spot?  Do you know how little it takes to stop a human heart?  And that isn’t even the worst of it.  For all I know my entire body is laced with explosives.  They made me into a weapon - it makes sense.  It only makes sense that somewhere inside of me is a surgically implanted device that could be activated at any moment and take out several city blocks, and if that happens and Steve is here -

\--James, that isn’t possible.  You were examined by the medical staff when you were brought in here.--

How would they know?  Did my arm set off the metal detectors on the way in?  I may have seemed lost when I brought in here - but I was fully aware of everything.  “He is unresponsive and seems confused.”  I knew exactly what I was doing. Yes, I almost lost it a few times while they were examining me because I kept flashing back to what they did to me.  Yes had it not been for Steve holding my human arm I would have lost it - but thats just it.  If I had wanted to - I could have killed everyone of those doctors.   I could kill everyone in this facility - I could even kill Steve if I wanted to.

\--But you didn’t James.  Why do you think that was?--

.........I ....... I don’t want to hurt anyone else.  But - that's just it.  I’m afraid.  I’m so afraid of - Steve.

\--You are afraid of Steve?--

No.  I’m afraid of hurting him.

\--Why is that?--

Because.  I....... I can’t.  He........... he is all that I have.  I don’t want to hurt him because I -  I.... I care about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a visual post to go along with this chapter, it is here if anyone is interested in seeing it: http://daturasnape.tumblr.com/post/82844189853 Thank you so much for reading. We will be writing more soon!


	9. Chapter 9

"Think I got the message figured  
another pilot down.  
and are there devils  
with halos and beautiful capes  
taking them into the flames,  
taking them into  
the flames

not Judy G  
not Jean Jean with a hallowed  
heart  
I see the screen go  
down in the flames  
with every step  
with every beautiful heal  
pointed

hey says  
not the Red Barron I'm sure  
not, Charlie's wonderful Dog  
not anyone I really know.  
just another pilot down  
maybe I'll just sing him a last little sound  
many there know some girls with red ribbons  
the prettiest  
red ribbons"

\--Tori Amos, "Not the Red Barron"

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“How’s it going?”

“Is he not coming today?”

“No, Steve couldn’t make it. He got held up with paperwork. Thought he’d be out in time, but he was still tied up as of an hour ago, so he asked me to stop by and visit with you instead. You okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“Is it because of me? All the paperwork?”

“Yeah, you know - you, Hydra, S.H.I.E.L.D. It’s been a busy few weeks.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I nearly killed you.”

“Aw, well - I did try to take you out a few times so, call it even? Friends?”

“Friends? Really?”

“Of course, shake on it?”

“All right.”

“So, how’ve you been. I hear Steve’s been visiting with you a lot.”

“He has.”

“He driving you up the wall with old stories?”

“He never stops.”

“Yeah well, consider yourself lucky. He doesn’t tell me stories like that.”

“Does he talk to you about the ice? Does he talk to you about waking up after all those years and finding himself.... here? In this time?”

“No. Steve doesn’t seem to want to talk about that ever.”

“I wish he would tell me. All he ever tells me about is the distant past. I don’t know any of it. Waking up from ice someplace else, your life stolen..... that think I know. I wish he would tell me.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“No. I try to say only the things that he’d want me to say.”

“Right. Well, maybe try. Might not work art first, he can be pretty stubborn.”

“...he can be pretty stubborn...”

“What’s that?”

“Huh? How did, how did you both meet?”

“Heh, running. Dude showed me up so, one thing lead to another... next thing I knew he showed up at my apartment needing help. Kinda hard to turn him down ever, you know? I mean, he can give some seriously inspirational speeches!”

“....speeches.....hard to turn him down.... So. You, helped him, to fight me, to take down the hellicariers, and then you helped him bring me here?”

“Yeah. Yeah I did. He cares a lot about you. Anyone can see that. When he said he was going to look for you, I wanted to help him. I lost someone once. I watched my wingman die. Man, I’d give anything for a second chance.... You form the deepest bonds with the people who fight by your side. The trust that you build with a partner - constantly putting your lives in each other’s hands, there is nothing else like it. I knew what it must have been like for him, and if I could help him get you back - it won’t bring Riley back, but I’ll sleep better at night knowing that I helped someone else.”

“...I think I understand that.”

“Yeah, well like I said. You really mean a lot to him. So what else do you two talk about? You do anything else when he is here other than talk?”

“I let him do most of the talking. I don’t have much to say. Sometimes we watch movies, old ones mostly. None of them - nothing ever brings anything back, nothing real anyway. Flashes of images, a wall, the lines on a street, a flash of a forrest. I’m never sure if any of them are real, or if they are - when they happened, or what was ever happening.”

“What do you do when he isn’t here?”

“Nothing really. He leaves me with books and music, I don’t care for the music. The books are all right, but I don’t feel like reading most of the time. Too many scattered thoughts, I don’t want to read the thoughts of others. They do nothing to quiet my own.”

“What would you want to do?”  
“I don’t understand.”

“If there was something you could be doing, anything at all, what would it be?”

“......... I don’t know. I don’t really think about that much.”

“You don’t think about what you want. You must want something.”

“..... I guess, if I could do anything - it would be to open a window. I’m sick of the air in here. I want to open the window.”

“See that’s a start - and I know exactly what you mean! See even though I live in an apartment, I need my space outside. That’s why I have terrace - need to get out and see the sky sometimes.”

“You need to fly.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I’m sorry that I destroyed your wings.”

“Eh, they weren’t really mine - I was kinda borrowing them, you know, borrowing without asking.”

“Oh.”

“So you ever been out in the courtyard?”

“No. I didn’t know there was one. We can go there? Is it outside?”

“Yeah, of course! Come on, I’ll take you right now. Might as well go now. The weather has been so bad these past few weeks - never know when we’ll have a nice day like this again. Gotta take advantage of it. It’s just down this hall.”

“I’ve never been in this hall.”

“Yeah, this place is bigger than it seems. It’s this door, see? Nice here right?”

“Yes....”

“I see you like the sky too? When was the last time you were outside?”

“Since you both brought me here. This is a nice garden...”

“You know, you can ask for things. If you ever want to go outside, or have Steve talk about different things, you can ask.”

“Okay. Will he be okay with that?”

“Steve?”

“Yes. He wants me to be something, but I don’t think I am that....”

“I know. This is hard for you. I know. But it’s really hard for him too. He wants what is best for you, even if he doesn’t go about it in the greatest way all the time. I don’t think he knows it when he upsets you. I know he doesn’t want to hurt you. He is a good man.”

“I know. If you see him, say hi. Tell him - tell him thank you, for the rice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I'm sorry for any typos! My wingman (adventuresofbuckybear) is away and was unable to beta for me. We'll be writing again Sunday or Monday the latest when she gets home and when I have gotten a bit more caught up with my Etsy orders!


	10. Chapter 10

“Come around town  
Steal another dime  
Don't you push your drugs in my face  
Yes, I feel it  
Feeling fine  
Don't you push your drugs in my face  
Or I'm gonna put you in your place  
Fuck you  
I don't want it no more  
And it's mine  
Said this pain in my heart is all mine  
Yes, it's mine all alone

I don't want it no more  
I don't want it no more

And it's mine on my own  
Yes, it's mine all alone  
As I cry for you  
Yes, I'll die for you  
Pain in my heart, it is real  
And I'll take  
Everything as it comes my way  
Feel in my heart it's for you  
And I'll lie for you as I die for you  
Pain in my heart it is real  
And I'll tell you now  
How I feel inside  
Fuck you  
It's for you”

Candlebox, “You”

 

\--Are you ready to begin James?--

Yes - but I know what you want me to say. And no it doesn’t mean anything to me. I’m not James. That isn’t my name.

\--That’s alright. Are you comfortable talking about the past at the moment?--

I think so. Is it going to rain all day today?

\--I’m not sure. I’m pretty sure they said that it would rain on and off again all day. You must have been happy to see the sun yesterday. I think we all were after all this rain we’ve been having.--

Yes. It won’t stop raining?

\--I don’t think so. Is there a reason you wanted to know about the rain?--

I just, thought maybe if he comes today that I could go outside again.

\--You mean Steve?--

Yes. I mean Steve. His friend took me outside yesterday. It was really nice. I like being outside. Until yesterday, my only real memories were recent ones. Recent ones, and falling - waking up in the snow and wishing that I was dead. It’s all a blur after that. Just flashes that I can never place, until yesterday.

It isn’t much but - the trees. I remember a forrest. I remember the smell of pine needles on the wind, snow, machine oil, smoke... I’m with soldiers. It feels like a dream and in my dream - somehow I know these men around me. I know their voices, I can hear gruff laughter, different accents. All these forests, marching behind a tank, always marching - trying to get somewhere because we have to do something. I don’t know what it is.

Everyone is standing around him. Steve. Something happened, everyone is arguing. I think we are outnumbered. People I think are arguing that we need to turn back to regroup. But Steve, he is so - stubborn. I know he is saying that we have to press on.

The way he talks - I wish I could make out the words, but I understand the feeling. It is so tangible this surge of something - I don’t know how to express it. But everyone around me I know feels the same way. Everyone changes, everyone is resolute and ready to go. It’s him, Steve - what he makes everyone feel, I wish I had the words to explain it.

Hope. It isn’t enough to explain but it is close, and I wish I could feel that now, but I can’t. Every time I think I can feel it, it vanishes - just like their faces. They vanish - all of them, and I am alone in the forrest.

This is a different forest. There are still pines but this is a warmer place, not quite spring - partly cloudy day in early March I think. There is a mountain near by. The smells are different, earth, mud, damp. This forrest is dense. I’m covering my tracks, moving silently through the trees. I’m so calm. There is no surge of hope, no sense that there is a purpose to what I do - just focus. I remember the house. I don’t remember much after that. I’m pretty sure that I took out my target but something went wrong.

The next thing I know I am in a hotel room biting down on a belt as I remove bullets. Music is playing to mask any other sound, but I never cry out. My body is slick with blood and sweat. I know I will have to take care of that later, never leave a trace. I sit still trying to slow my heart rate - I’m coming down from the pain. Sitting still - shutting down as I know that I have to, but instead my thoughts turn to the radio. This was the first mistake.

I’m not to do such things, but I do. But there is something in the songs - this aggression - the heaviness of the guitars... The words begin to resonate and I begin to feel things. Not the physical pain, that I can manage, but something else - fear, anger.

Why is this being done to me? I want something. I remember wanting something, and I’m so angry because I don’t know what it is that I want that I can’t have. My heart begins to pound, I’ll bleed out - I know this but I’m so angry that I don’t care. I can’t breathe, I’m getting dizzy. The man on the radio screams and it is mine. He says what I cannot, but I don’t know what it is that he says. One song after another.

Something has taken hold of me. I have this horrible terror at the thought of time - being trapped and unable to escape. Ages and centuries passing - everyone else moves on but I have to live on for eternity - alone.

Why am I not a person? Why am I not like the people that I kill. I know that I have one more target to take out before I can return to base, but I don’t care. I want to leave the room and run. I have to, but won’t make it far in this state. I want to go back to the forrest, I can hide and they will never find me.

I don’t know if I ever took out that target. I don’t know if I passed out in a pool of my own blood in that hotel room or if I somehow managed to run. All I remember is getting caught. How many men it took to take me in - dragging me though a hall. The were going to do it - I’m shouting something. Maybe it is the lyrics, maybe the words are my own, but I’m screaming - 

I have something and I’m trying so hard to hold onto it - they’re going to take it and maybe if I scream loud enough - maybe this time I’ll remember when I wake up from this.

But I don’t. I never do.... not until now. I wish I had those songs again. I just want something to hold onto - I want something real.

Steve he comes and he plays these dreamlike melodies from ages ago. Brass, strings, women singing about love. They mean nothing to me. But those songs from whatever time that I was in that hotel, the city by the mountain - that I understood. It was in my blood. I want it, and he won’t give it to me. He can’t he won’t know it any more than I do. 

Sweet, innocent fool that he is. He has this little notebook that he takes everywhere. He tries to catch up on all that he missed while he just slept in peace.... While I - I’d have to keep a notebook just to keep track of all the missing moments.... all of my fractured memories of places and people I might have been.... trying to decipher decades and kills. 

Maybe he does know it, or maybe Sam will. If Steve comes today, I’ll ask him if he knows songs like would be like the ones in my memories. Maybe he’ll even go outside with me, even if it is raining. Maybe I will ask him about the ice, and maybe - he’ll tell me what it was like. I think he will, he is good man - if I ask, I think he will tell me. Maybe he can tell me how I am supposed to live with this...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I am still without my beta reader, so please forgive my blatant typos! Adventuresofbuckybear just sent me a new chapter, so I'll be able to post it for her tomorrow even though she is away.


	11. Chapter 11

Dear James,

Please forgive me for not being able to visit you again today. I am still being detained with legal matters. 

By now you must be aware that there has been a hearing going on to determine if the Winter Soldier should be held accountable for the crimes done while you were under the control of HYDRA. Thanks to the testimony of Sam and the good doctors at the hospital, they have declared that you were not guilty since you were not in control of your own actions at the time. Something they are calling Stockholm Syndrome. Sam says it's a valid decision but I am determined to make it absolutely known that you were not responsible for what they made you do. The man I knew would never have done those things. Even if you do not believe it yourself, I will convince them and hopefully one day I can convince you too.

The first part of the battle is won. You have been cleared of all charges. Now they are questioning if you pose a threat or not. No need to be concerned. You have been a prisoner long enough. I'm not going to allow them to treat you with such little respect. After all you've done for this country, after all you've been through.

I don't meant to prattle on. I've been told that it's become a bad habit of mine. I'll work harder to correct that.

Anyway, I regret to say that I may be detained longer than I had originally thought. That will of course prevent me from visiting and I regret that immensely. I enjoy our time together. It may not be like old times; I know that it can never be that way again. Neither of us is the same person that we left behind back in Brooklyn so long ago. Perhaps this is not a bad thing. I've enjoyed our time together and hope that it has been some small good to you.

Sam tells me that he has been keeping you company. That's good. I'm glad that he can be there for you in my absence.

I hope to be finished with my business soon. I'll return as soon as I can. Maybe then we can catch that movie? Or anything you'd like to do, buddy. Think on it.

I'll see you soon.

Your friend,

Steve Rogers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Adventuresofbuckybear. She sent it to me so that I could upload it for her while she was away. This chapter was a surprise and it touched me on a very personal level. I'll be posting another chapter very soon.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

Dear Steve,

Sam gave me your letter. I’m so sorry that you have so much to do because of me. I’m so sorry for all that I’ve put you through.

I hope that you’re not angry with me. I know you said you have legal matters to attend to, but I hope you are not staying away because of me. When I first read your letter I and heard that you weren’t coming, well it was more of a blow than I was expecting it to be. But I understand why you wouldn’t want to come back.

I’ve pushed you away, every moment. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I never told you - that I like it when you visit. I never told you. I never thanked you. You’ve given so much of your time to be here. And I guess I never realized how much I enjoyed your being here until I learned that you wouldn’t be coming.

I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve cause you. You and Sam have done so much to help me. I still don’t understand why. I know that part of the reason that I push you away is because I don’t feel that I have any right to accept your help, but that doesn’t make what I’ve done any less wrong.

It isn’t your fault that you talk to much. I leave you little choice because I never have anything to say. I don’t listen most of the time because I am afraid. I know you want me to remember being a kid from Brooklyn, but I don’t. I remember war. I remember being a machine. It isn’t your fault. It is mine. I’m afraid to remember. I don’t think it will make any sense to you but it is easier for me to be the thing that I am, and not flesh and blood - someone who was once your friend. Someone who you say did so much for the country. That is a huge responsibility, and I don’t think I can bear the weight of it. I can’t even be a good friend to you. Look at me, it has taken the fear that you might not ever want to come visit me again to see it.

Sam is right, you are a good man. I think I do remember that. I think you were able to inspire people to do good things. I know you say that I was your friend, I hope I was as good a friend to you back then as you truly deserved. I can’t see how I could ever be that. I’m so sorry.

I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you when you first brought me here. I’m always afraid that I will be taken back. Sometimes I thought you were both trying to bring me back to that place, but now, after everything, I think you are the only two people that I truly feel safe with. I think that I can trust you.

Sam has been very good to me. We talk a little. I ask him about things that have happened over the years. He tells me things, mostly about movies and things. Sometimes he tells me historical things. He told me about The Battle for New York, how you helped save the world...

I hope that you do come back. I really do want to see you again. There are so many things that I wanted to ask you, but maybe it is better if I wait until I see you. I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean about catching a movie. What movie was it? I’m sorry if I forgot what you said.

There was something that I wanted to ask you - not a movie but music. There are these songs that I really want... I need to know if they are real and I wondered if you knew what they were. I don’t have much to go on, just that they were loud and angry. Guitars and people screaming. I know it is a lot to ask, but they meant a lot to me once. I tired to escape one time and I think they inspired me to do it. They were all that I had to go on for days while I kept going, changing cars - forever heading North. Just keep heading North and don’t stop.

I know it isn’t much but I am clinging so desperately to the idea that I once tried to run. Maybe part of me still lived. At least now I know that this was not something that I wanted. It actually means everything to me now. Who knows, maybe I even thought of you on those long drives. Maybe I was trying to get back to you?

I don’t remember. All I know was night - traveling at night. A city by a mountain, trees, lots of trees, forever heading North. I wish I could say where I was, but I don’t even know when it was. I think it may have been close to now, maybe. The cars seemed, not that old. Not like the ones in black and white photos. They seem in my memory to be like cars are now.

I think I remember words too. They seem so real, but it might have all been a dream. “Into the flood again.” It keeps repeating in my head. This morning I thought of something else, these almost inhuman screams. I wish I knew why that stands out - but the words, “When the forrest burns along the road.” That came to me as I woke up this morning. It might have been just a dream, but if you know, if they are real songs - then it means that I really did try to escape. 

I realize how impossible all this is. I’m sorry. I ask too much of you when you’ve already done too much.

I hope that I will see you soon.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! Adventuresofbuckybear will be adding a new Steve chapter soon. It will be posted Tuesday or Wednesday the latest.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve returns. Bucky makes him talk about "the ice."

Are you feelin that you're on the brink  
Of spilling some red in the sink  
It wasn’t the easiest year  
No I don’t want you to go

Are the memories too hard to take  
Rape is a word with a face  
No I don’t want you to go  
You know I don’t want you to go

Friend of mine stay alive  
Don’t you leave me here  
All alone in the world with a chronic tear  
I will always be here, I will always be here  
I will always be here for you

We walked the promenade in the rain  
With velcro shoes and an ice cream stain  
You’re the only one who understands  
Remember the Blake said to make sure you wake  
And help save your generation

No I don’t want you to go  
You know we don’t want you to go

Friend of mine stay alive  
Don’t you leave me here  
All alone in the world with a chronic tear  
I will always be here, I will always be here  
I will always be here for you

Don’t look back  
The past is just that  
We are We are We are We are  
Awake

Friend of mine stay alive  
Don’t you leave me  
Friend of mine stay alive  
Don’t you leave me  
I will always be here  
I will always be here

Friend of mine stay alive  
Don’t you leave me here  
All alone in the world with a chronic tear  
I will always be here, I will always be here  
I will always be here for you  
–Eve 6 “Friend Of Mine”

 

“You came back.”

It’s not said with joy. More like anger. Resentment. Not that I blame him. I’d have felt abandoned too. 

“Sure I did. Said I would, didn’t I? And I’m always honest.”

He snorted and turned his head away and I could see the sharp line of his cheek. Had he been avoiding meals again?

“Took you long enough.”

“Got held up longer than I thought. Didn’t mean to. I wrote more letters to you.”

“I got them.”

Fury was radiating off of him in waves. I might have been alarmed, but this was James and not the Winter Soldier. He paced the room, looking like he wanted to scream, punch something, tear at the walls with his bare hands.

“You were jogging,” I said in an attempt to break the tension. He grunted and continued his pacing. “Sam told me that you and he sometimes run together in the courtyard. That is good–“

“How long have you been here?” he snaps.

“A while now.”

He stops to glare at me. “A while now. You’ve been gone for a week and now you’re here and you’ve been sitting in the waiting room while I’ve been fucking jogging?”

“I wanted you to enjoy your run,” I answered calmly.

“Fuck that!” He was practically spitting in my face now. “You were gone! You fucking left me! You left me! And then you come back and you don’t have the decency to tell me?”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself. I thought you liked being outdoors.”

“YOU LEFT ME! I WAS ALONE IN THE COLD WAITING FOR YOU TO COME BACK FOR ME AND YOU DIDN’T! YOU NEVER CAME BACK!”

He was thinking about that awful day. That feeling of falling, forever falling, and endless cold and ice and the burning–the loneliness– Suddenly he wasn’t James or Bucky or the Winter Soldier Anymore. He was this tiny, dirty, rough boy in the orphanage; eyes steeled and shoulders back, ready to take on the world. A boy who had lost his family, who had nothing else but sorrow and anger and fear to build around himself to stave away the pain. A boy who was looking at him now with that same challenge in his eyes as if to say: “I dare you. I DARE you–“

I stood up as slowly as I could and somehow managed to keep my voice from cracking. “I didn’t mean to leave you, James. I didn’t.”

“I was calling out to you! I kept thinking ‘Steve will come for me. Hold on just a little bit longer. Steve is coming for me.’ They took EVERYTHING from me!”

He was crying now. So was I. Why try to fight it? I wanted more than anything to hold him, to wrap him in my arms so tight until neither of us could remember– I took a step forward and he flinched as if I had struck him. 

“I know and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” I couldn’t think of what else to say.

 

He was silent for what felt like forever. Finally he said, “Tell me about the ice.”

The statement caught me off guard. “That… I haven’t… I haven’t talked about that with anyone.”

He did not back down. “Then talk about it with me. I want to hear you tell me about the ice.”

“I–– I don’t know if I can… that… it was so much. So much, Buck– James.”

“So, it’s okay for me to waste away in here and tell all my problems to a complete stranger but you, who claims to be my so-called ‘best friend’ won’t talk to me?”

He was goading me, I knew it, but he was right too. I slumped back into my seat. “What do you want to know?”

“All of it.” He sat down across from me and folded his arms. The metal one gleamed in the light, like an accusation.

“You were falling,” I said. “I tried to catch you. I had to watch you fall. They had to pry me off the side of that train when they finally got it to stop. I tried to get away. All I wanted to do was get back to that ravine, find the spot where you fell. Jones and Dum Dum had to restrain me. Col. Phillips said it was pointless, too risky. And I–I didn’t feel you anymore. It was different when they had told me the 107th was either dead or captured. They had told me that you were dead but I had just FELT that they were wrong. This time… it didn’t feel the same. I was cold, empty. I drank every bottle of whiskey I could find, but I couldn’t get drunk. The new body that they had made for me was now a prison that I couldn’t get away from.

“Howard, Stark told me that he’d send in men to find– to find you. I wanted to bring you back to Brooklyn, lay you next to your parents. It was the least I could do. Thought you would have liked that. Next day I led us out on that final HYDRA strike. I don’t remember much of that. Not the Red Skull or Peggy or the plane, it was all just motions. One more mission. I knew that if I didn’t do it a lot of innocent people were going to die. And crashing that plane…. I wasn’t committing suicide like everyone thought. I was dead inside but I didn’t want– I wanted to see you again. That would never happen if I had committed a mortal sin. I put the bird down, for the greater good. That’s all.

“And… and then… I remember regaining consciousness. It was cold and I was in pain and the water was rushing in. I thought, ‘Well, this is it.’ The mission was done. New York was safe and I could rest. I lay back down and waited for the water. Then… then I heard… your voice. You were calling to me. I had to get up, get out of there. I was reaching out, but my arms wouldn’t work. My legs were under the water and they were freezing. I tried to move. I kept telling myself to move, to get up, that Bucky needed you, but it was so cold. I tired to cry out but there was water in my mouth and everything was cold but it was burning and burning and I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move and I tried, I tried, I tried––“

Suddenly James moved. The moment was finally here. He’d finish it. Put me out of my eternal misery. Good.

I was in his arms. How had that happened? I was so sure that he had hated me, and now–– And now–– My head dropped onto his should and I was weeping. I crushed him against me, holding on as if my life depended––did depend on it. Bucky was there. He was real and he was with me.

It was a long time before either of us managed to detangle ourselves from that knot.

James rubbed his face on his sleeve. “You’re such a punk.”

“Jerk,” I replied and couldn’t fight the grin from spreading across my face. A corner of his mouth twitched. 

“You still could’ve come into the courtyard to tell me you were here, “ he said. “Didn’t have to let me keep running laps like an idiot.”

“Like I said, I wanted to enjoy your run.”

“But you knew that I wanted to see you. Wasn’t that more important?”

I shrugged. “I know when I run it’s so I can get away from the rest of the world for a while. I don’t have to think. Everything becomes quiet. It’s nice. Thought you might not want that interrupted. Also, I know something about having an older brother constantly looking over my shoulder and how that can sometimes get under one’s skin.”

He stared at me and this time gave a genuine smile. It was small but I took it as a positive sign.

“So,” he says. “What did you bring for dinner tonight?”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh?”

I passed him a few menus. “Thought you might like to order something for yourself.”

James blinked at me. “I didn’t know they delivered to hospitals.”

“Being a living legend sometimes has its rewards. And there’s this.” I reached into my coat pocket and produced the little blue iPod.

His face lit up and it was like eighty years had just vanished. “Is that…. Did you find them? The songs. Do they really exist?”

“I looked into it. There’s this band called Alice In Chains.”

James grabbed the device and began to scroll through it. He seemed at ease with 21st century technology, better than I ever was. 

“Does that sound familiar?” I asked.

“I think so.”

“The first song, is called ‘Would.’”

He plays it, as something in him seems to register.

“The second song was a bit trickier. What you were describing, all the guitars and anger, but I think this took place in the 90s. The music back then was called ‘Grunge’ and ‘Alternative.’ That song was in the early 90s. I think this was a song called ‘ Rusty Cage’ which was originally by a man called Johnny Cash. However, that didn’t seem to fit, until you mentioned the nearly inhuman scream. Then there was this band called Soungarden and they performed a cover version of it. Their vocalist tends to scream like that.

“I brought both versions, as well as several others from that era. Funny, one of them had been on my list to get around to forever. Nirvana is now checked off my list. Make sure you listen to them. They’re really good. Are you sure you are ready for this?”

But James isn’t listening to me anymore. His eyes are very far away and his knee is tapping against the table. The second song begins to play. James went absolutely rigid. His skin palled as a hand slammed over his mouth as he fell to the floor.

“Buck!” I dropped to the floor next to him. “Are you okay? What happened?” I tried to rub circles into his back. He used to do that for me when I had been small and sick. What if the doctors had been right? What if there had been hidden trigger? Would I have to see a stranger in my friend’s face once again?

He ran his hands through his hair and looked up at me. His eyes were wild but they were James’ eyes. And he was smiling, almost. 

“James?” 

“I didn’t kill her!” he exclaimed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading our story and for all your wonderful, and helpful comments!  
> And special thanks to my real life Bucky Barnes, Datura_Snape for coming up with the idea for this fic and encouraging me to write it with her. And thank you for all your music knowledge which help shape this story in ways that mere words cannot express.
> 
> It's been an emotional roller coaster dealing with Steve and Bucky, and it's not over yet. We're gonna have to ride the Cyclone a few more time before this is over.


	14. Chapter 14

“Know me broken by my master  
Teach thee on child of love hereafter

Into the flood again  
Same old trip it was back then  
So I made a big mistake  
Try to see it once my way

Drifting body it's sole desertion  
Flying not yet quite the notion

Am I wrong?  
Have I run too far to get home?  
Have I gone?

And left you here alone?  
If I would, could you?”

Alice in Chains, “Would”

\--Is there anywhere that you would like to start today James?--

Where ever you want me to start I guess.

\--I haven’t asked you about your name in a while.--

I know. I’ve noticed. No. I’m sorry, it still feels like a new name that you have all assigned to me. I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to feel that it is really mine.

\--Does that upset you?--

Not having a name? I don’t think a name would change things. I’d rather have a past than a name.

\--Have you been remembering the past? Would you like to talk about the past?--

No. Can I talk about yesterday?

\--Sure. Your friend Steve came yesterday. Is that what would you like to talk about?--

Yes. Yeah. Yesterday was.... different. The past few weeks have been, um.... it’s just getting really hard. I have all these instincts that I can’t ignore. It freaks me out to know just how much I have allowed my muscles to atrophy. My nerves twitch and my skin starts to crawl. I want to climb the walls. I want to scream. I feel like I am on fire, I’m just so freaked out all the time. I can’t sleep - I can’t eat. I hate eating. It is so hard to eat when I feel this way. I can’t even breathe.

I know I’m supposed to be training. I’m not supposed to sit still like this. 

It is so deeply ingrained in me. I can’t ignore it, and yet I think I am supposed to ignore it now. That is what they would have made me do. I would be training, spending hours at target practice, hand to hand combat - I haven’t even worked at my first aid skills. What if my hands are no longer steady enough to remove bullets? I know they are not. My hand shakes now - it never used to...

I can’t help it. I compulsively do push-ups - I - and the running. I know I should be running at full speed though rough terrain for several hours a day, but I can do is run laps through the court yard...... but it is just so slow...

\--I’ve seen you run James, you’re quite fast.--

No. That isn’t fast at all. I’m too afraid to allow people to see how fast I can really run. So I keep to a slow pace, it is enough. It is the only time I am close to calm. And even though I’m almost certain that this uncontrollable need to train comes from what they’ve done to me, I keep holding onto the hope that some how this goes back further. Maybe I was a soldier in another life, and this was a routine from that life. It isn’t much but I only have small stupid things like that... Like Steve.

I kept hoping that he would come back. I wanted it more than I should say - but yesterday... I was out. I was running when one of the nurses came out to tell me that I had a visitor who was waiting for me. I assumed that it was Sam again, even though he just comes straight to the courtyard to see me. 

I went inside. Steve. The sight of him was like a shock to my heart. How he turned to look at me then - I had wanted this so much, and now he was here. But he’d been here - the whole time and he did’t even bother to tell me. I wanted to scream at him. I held back my scream, but not enough. My voice betrayed my anger when I spoke, and then suddenly I didn’t care if he knew how furious I was.

Babbling shit about big brothers - what the fuck does that have to do with anything?  He left me.  He left me here and he didn’t come back.  I lost it. I kept yelling at him, I couldn’t see him anymore - just snow and bright lights and people in lab coats and - I lost it. I broke down and sobbed... I wanted him to take me away from all that, though I knew how useless that was to think... Still I kept thinking it as I cried, I wanted him to help me. Why can’t I shake this feeling that he is the only one who can help me. 

I tried to get a hold of myself. All I could think was - what the hell is wrong with me? Why was I so angry? How could I be so angry but also be just so happy to see him - it was all that I had wanted.

I manage a half-assed  apology, remembering what I felt when I wrote to him.  I still mean every word of if but then when he was here, I couldn’t express what I felt. It was so much easier on paper. I was thinking, maybe our conversations should continue resort back to my passing him sheets of handwritten notes.

Then I just came out with it. “Tell me about the ice.”

He... it wasn’t the answer that I wanted. It was the last thing...I - I wanted him to tell me how it was when he woke up - how he managed after that. Instead... he told me how he fell asleep.

...........I .....I have these instincts. Fight, flee, kill, defend, train.... He fucks me up and I, feel things. It scares me - but nothing he has ever done or said has ever made me feel....

I acted without thinking. I couldn’t think - I could only feel. And what I felt at the thought of him cold and alone and in pain... I couldn’t take it. It was hurting me. It was killing me - I couldn’t take it. Nothing could stop it - nothing until I could hold him in my arms and...

I held him - I held him so tight and - What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t know what the hell was wrong with me then, I still don’t know now. I have no idea why I did it, but it was all that mattered in that moment. His head fell onto my shoulder, he was crying. I held him tighter and lowered my head onto his.

I wanted him to help me. For weeks, I think all that I had really wanted was...for him to - to have done that exact thing for me. But instead I held him while he cried. This is so stupid but... I don’t know why everything suddenly seemed to make sense. Even though he was crying I still felt... almost.... I could breathe. I felt... and then I looked down at my arm - the arm that doesn’t feel him - the one that could only sense him. How many times I hit him in the face or tried to choke him with it...

No. I’m not human. I’ll never be human. Whatever I felt was nearly lost. I only held on because he hadn’t let go. When he finally did, I did my best to hide my tears, to brush it all off. I called him a punk or something.

We talked for a while. The fear of what I was began to nag at me - but then he handed me an MP3 player.

My songs!!!!! Life - hope - I felt it. I actually felt hope. “Do they really exist?”

He said a name - Alice in Chains. I knew it. I could have almost sworn that I knew it - and then he said it - the song - “Would.”

Would. Alice in Chains. Rusty Cage. Soundgarden. There was something in every single one of those words. Trees, rain - city by a mountain, city by the sea...

“Are you sure you are ready for this?’

It was all I had wanted. “Yes.”

The second that base kicked in - I felt it - jolted back a thousand or ten years - but there I was. That was it - it was no dream it was real. It was me - it was my life - that time - that place - the way it all smelled, the exact color of the leaves against a grey sky.

I fell to the floor - I clutched at my hair - I was vaguely aware of the fact that I was smiling - and I knew it was the first time that I may have ever done so - because this was it - this was mine, tears were streaming down my face. It was real - I was alive - I - 

“I didn’t kill her!” I was half laughing half crying. I must have sounded like a maniac. Steve was freaking out - why wouldn’t he? What I must have sounded like... But I couldn’t stop smiling - I felt this almost ecstatic anxiety over it - just how powerful it was - but it was real. “I turned right - I was supposed to turn left but I turned right!!”

He was on the floor with me, stoking my back to get me to calm down. I tired to come down enough to explain - he deserved that and I need to tell him. I needed to tell someone.

“My mission. My target. I didn’t kill her. I had already taken out her husband. He was the politician. He was in their hours in the woods. I didn’t know his name or the reason, they never told me the details, but I had to kill him - then take out the wife. She was in the city - he was in the house in the outskirts. I don’t remember much about killing him - just that I did, and that something went wrong. Information was wrong and I was shot three times by his security detail before I could take them all out and burn the place to the ground.

“After that I retreated to a hotel room to heal myself before I continued. I took out the bullets, but I had the radio on. I did it to muffle sounds, but I’m not supposed to turn on the radio to anything but classical stations. No TV, no radio, no newspapers - nothing like that. I don’t know why I disobeyed. It wasn’t the blood loss. I know I’ve been hurt worse on other missions and managed to carry out orders without slipping up like that. 

“Something about all of those songs did something to me. I know “Would” was one of them. Those songs awakened something within me. I was so angry and I wanted to get away. There was something that I wanted - more than anything. I didn’t even know what it was. I was so angry - I wanted to run away. I was so upset - I didn’t do what I’d been trained to do which was to keep myself calm - and just sit there and stare. My fury made me lose more blood... But there was something to hearing all these songs - the screaming and the fact that I was disobeying them...

“I woke up the next morning in a puddle of blood on the tarps that I lay out for such times. Not dead - but I’d forgotten much of the night before. I went into auto pilot and cleaned any trace of my blood. I went to finish my mission. I was in the car - on my way to do it, but something made me turn on the radio. I couldn’t resist it. I had to do it. That song - “Would” - it was that song. The second I heard it I knew what I had to do.

“I was driving down Seneca.  I had to turn left onto 3rd where she worked but, “Would” - “Into the flood again,” I turned right.  I got myself back onto the 5.  I made it as far as Canada. 

“I know how stupid this must all seem to you but I made a choice. I had feelings once. That I didn’t want to kill her, that I wanted so desperately to run - that I acted on it... Those actions, those feelings, those songs - they were all mine.

“I think I was trying to get to you. I don’t think that I fully understood it at the time. There was another memory that is somehow associated with that. One much more lost in a blur, and though I didn’t know it at the time - I think it was you.

“A soldier was giving a speech to a group of soldiers. I was one of them. We were out numbered and he - you just made everyone believe... we were in a forrest in winter. I kept driving North - always driving North. All I wanted more than anything was to get back to that place. I knew my life depended on it. It was as if, somehow - I had made a wrong turn once, just one. One left that should have been a right and I got lost from that place...

“But they caught me in the end. I screamed back lyrics to them as they did it. I needed to hold onto it. Lyrics and “Fuck you!” Always “Fuck You!” I screamed lyrics up until the last second that they did it. I wanted to hold onto it for as long as I could - and maybe, just maybe I wouldn’t lose it. They erased it all. They took it from me.”

“But they didn’t Buck.”

“No. They didn’t................. Maybe I actually am real.” I clutched that MP3 player in my human hand. I felt it. “It is real.”

 

“Bucky,” he said “What they did to you, what ever they tried turn you into, that isn’t you. I know it’s hard for you to see it, but I can. You are still the same great guy that I have known all my life. Even when I had nothing, I had you. You were always there for me. You are my friend. Nothing that has happened, nothing that ever will happen is ever going to change how I feel about you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I just held on tighter to the MP3 player. 

He must have seen, he gestured to it. “Does that help? Do you think now that you can start to believe it?”

I thought about it for a long time. “Yes. I think it does help. I disobeyed orders. I didn’t listen to them. I made my own choices, there were songs that I liked, and for at least a day or so - I was alive.”

“What about now?”

I don’t know why that question came as a shock to me then, but it did. “Yes. I’m alive now.”

He smiled. Then he reached over and somehow managed to pry the MP3 player from my hand. “You want to hear something else?”

“Yes.” For that at least I didn’t have to hesitate.

He let me pick out the first album to play. It was Vs. - the band was Pearl Jam. We both really liked it. There was one song that we both... we both cried. Well, it was more Steve than me...we both did - but it wasn’t a bad, painful thing the way we had before. 

He wanted me to pick the next one, but I insisted he pick. He said that I needed to hear something called, “Nevermind” - the band was Nirvana. Some of the songs sounded familiar - the Pearl Jam ones did too, but mostly we spent a lot of that album laughing over the fact that we couldn’t understand a lot of the words. At one point Steve started laughing and crying. 

“It isn’t that funny.”

But then he pointed out that he hadn’t heard me laugh since before everything happened. I never even noticed, but - I guess yesterday was the first time that I have ever laughed.

I don’t know. It was the first time I think that I have ever felt happy. He said he would come today and that we could talk more and listen to more music. It’s weird, I feel like I went from having nothing but a series of fragmented thoughts and nightmares of a life that isn’t mine - to suddenly in one day - I got a past. Even if it was just a fraction of a past life that is mine, but something else too - something that I had never even thought about. I have a present life. I actually have something now, and it is all because of him.

 

“I seem to recognize your face   
Haunting, familiar yet,   
I can't seem to place it  
 Cannot find the candle of thought to light your name   
Lifetimes are catching up with me

All these changes taking place   
I wish I'd seen the place   
But no one's ever taken me

Hearts and thoughts they fade,   
fade away  
 Hearts and thoughts they fade,   
fade away

I swear, I recognize your breath   
Memories like fingerprints are slowly raising   
Me, you wouldn't recall for I'm not my former   
It's hard when you're stuck upon the shelf  
I changed by not changing at all  
 Small town predicts my fate   
Perhaps that's what no one wants to see   
I just want to scream hello

Well, my God it's been too long   
Never dreamed You'd return   
But now here You are and here I am...”

 

\--“Elderly Woman Behind The Counter in a Small Town”  
Pearl Jam, from the album, “Vs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! I'm so sorry this chapter took me so long to write! AdventuresofBuckyBear will be adding a new Steve chapter over the weekend. 
> 
> I'll do my best to post a new chapter as well, but it might not be until Tuesday. I'm really sorry that I haven't had a lot of time to write. I have a lot of Etsy orders that I need to get out by Tuesday - though in my defense I am working on something for Winter Soldier along with my usual gear. I think about the story a lot while I'm working. I keep a lot of notes, and I try to write down as much of it as I can. I promise there will be many more chapters! They do like to play themselves in my head, especially late at night!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve talks about his experiences after waking up from the ice.

I'm waking up to ash and dust  
I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust  
I'm breathing in the chemicals

I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus  
This is it, the apocalypse  
Whoa

I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones  
Enough to make my systems blow  
Welcome to the new age, to the new age  
Welcome to the new age, to the new age  
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive  
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive

I raise my flags, don my clothes  
It's a revolution, I suppose  
We'll paint it red to fit right in  
Whoa

I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus  
This is it, the apocalypse  
Whoa

I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones  
Enough to make my systems blow  
Welcome to the new age, to the new age  
Welcome to the new age, to the new age  
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive  
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive  
–Imagine Dragons (Radioactive)

 

“Are you sure that you don’t need a medic, Sam?”

“Man, shut up! I’m fine.”

“Because you’re looking rather, uh, flushed. James and I were running, ah, rather fast. Maybe you should sit down for a–”

“I said I’m fine. Might not have noticed, but I’m actually the youngest one here. I was actually going easy on you, grandpa.”

James chuckled. “And yet you came in third in a race against two 95-year-olds. I’m starting to wonder who’s the grandpa here.”

“Hilarious, Barnes! I think I liked you better when you were grumpy and not talking.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

I tried my best not to laugh when James turned to me for reassurance. “You’re definitely grumpy.”

“I am not!”

“Frowny face looks like a perfect upside-down U,” Sam had not qualms about chuckling, so he did. “Gives that cat that’s all over the Internet a run for his money.”

“The what?”

“Grumpy Cat. Hell, you must have seen…. See you’re making the face right now! Grumpy Barnes! This could be the next big meme.”

“What’s a meemeem? And can you eat it?”

“It’s ‘meme.’ Now who’s sounding like a grandpa? Let me get a vid of you.”

It was good to see my two closest friends sassing one another. A month ago I’d have been worried that a wrong word might have brought out the Soldier and it would have ended… I didn’t want to continue that train of thought. Right now I was too busy enjoying the day. 

Sam was now holding his iPhone at James. “C’mon, do it for the Vine, Gramps. DO IT FOR THE VIIIIIIINNEEEEE!”

“What the hell is the Vine? Are we talking about grapes?”

“Classic! I’m gonna tag this under ‘S*** Old Man Says!’”

“Seriously,” said James. “You want us to get a doctor? There are a lot of them around here. We can just go inside. Sure one of them will take pity and–“

“You are really funny today, man. This place is just too small for a proper run.”

“Oh, that’s your excuse, is it?”

“Now by the Washington Memorial, that’s a proper run. Get some distance going. Might want to try that sometime.”

James sucked in his breath and was suddenly fascinated by his shoelaces.

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey man, remember what I said. Some stuff you leave there, other stuff you bring back. The trick is to figure out how we carry it. You’ve come a long way already.” James gave a half smile. “I gotta book. Another meeting down at the VA center.”

I shook Sam’s hand. “You don’t want to go another lap? Or stick around for lunch? It’s James’ turn to pick the place today.”

“I thinking of ordering pizza this time,” said James.

“Whoa, sure you can handle that much excitement?” Sam rolled his eyes.

“With pineapple. I mean, who does things like that? I call that exciting.”

“Still a no to trying sushi, hun?”

“I’m adventurous, not stupid. Why would anyone pay to eat uncooked fish?”

I laughed. “He does have a point. And that’s coming from someone who lived off of French army rations.”

“Now you’re both sounding more like babies than old men,” Sam shook his head. “Right, but when it’s my turn to choose I don’t want to hear any complaining.”

“NO SUSHI!” James and I said at the same time.

“Hell no! Can’t stand that icky stuff. I’m thinking tacos. I’ll catch you guys another time.”

“Not if you keeping running like that,” James said.

“Hilarious, man. HE-LAIR-E-OUS! I expect to see you both at the center sometime.” 

Sam left the courtyard. James and I sat down on a bench under a fine oak tree. I lifted my head to watch the wind play with the leaves. It felt like old times, something that I hadn’t thought possible to experience ever again. It was sappy, I knew, but I was counting my blessings. I must have had the biggest, dumbest grin on my face.

“What’s that mug about?” James asked.

I smiled even wider. “That obvious, hun? I was just thinking it was a nice day.”

“That’s it?”

“Isn’t that enough? No invading armies, from this planet or any other one. No having to eat army rations, or cold porridge for the hundredth time. No hellicariers falling from the sky. Yes, I’d say that this is a nice day.”

“When did you eat cold porridge?” 

“We both did. When money was tight sometimes it was all we cold eat, three times a day. Sometimes you’d work an extra shift at the docks and bring home a side of pork or beef, or a few extra potatoes. When times were good, we’d have enough left to make sandwiches the next day for lunch.”

“Can I ask you something?”

I sat up and looked at him. James had that cautious look about him, like he was determined to proceed but wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. I had thought this might come up. Had he remembered something? There were things that we never needed to say to one another. There were things that we never got the chance to say to one another. Something clenched deep inside my gut. “Sure. You can ask me anything.”

“You’re always talking about the past.”

“Are you remembering anything?”

“Not really. I get these flashes, but it’s more like waking up. Each time is different so I’m wondering if I’m remembering the times when they took me out of deep freeze. I wondered if you would tell me about when you woke up from the ice?”

I leaned further back against the bench. The sunlight was dancing through the branches overhead. 

“I mean, if it’s not something that you want–“

“No,” I said. “It’s okay. It was a difficult time. I remember drifting and then everything was white. I thought that maybe, maybe I had made it into Heaven. And the Brooklyn Dodgers were there.”

“The Dodgers?”

“Well, yeah. I could hear a ballgame playing and thought that Heaven loved the Dodgers! Turns out I had woken up in a fake room designed to look like a 1940’s hospital, all set up by S.H.I.E.L.D. to make me think that no time had passed at all.”

He scowled at me. “Why would they do a stupid thing like that?”

I shrugged. “Tried to ease the shock of what had happed to me, I suppose. That’s what Fury told me after I had busted out of there. I made it out to Times Square when I finally looked around and realized where I was. It was Manhattan. It looked like Manhattan, but different. So different! The lights were so bright, and there were cars everywhere, and what looked like giant movie projector screens on the sides of the buildings. They were everywhere! Everything was so loud and bright and colorful and angry! People were shouting and honking horns and blasting music. 

“It was like I had stepped out of one battlefield and into another one. Except that I couldn’t understand this war. It was worse than anything HYDRA had thrown at us. Like a nightmare. And all I could think was that they had won. It had all been for nothing. That was when Nick Fury introduced himself and confessed about the ruse. He said that they had meant no harm, but I’ll tell you, I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since then. Still nervous that I’m was waking up to a nightmare. I mean, you think you’re never going to wake up again, but then you do and they tell you that it’s seventy years in the future. The war had been long-since over and the world had moved on and I hadn’t died. Somehow I had just slept through it all. Trapped inside of an iceberg.”

“But what was it like those first few days?”

“Difficult. Everything was so strange. I was afraid to fall asleep for a whole week. Too scared that I’d wake up and another century would have passed by. Or I’d end up back on the German lines under fire. For a while I didn’t want to leave my room. I still thought it was all a trick and that Red Skull was behind it all. Or that the serum had affected my mind and that I had gone crazy. Or…or worse, that I really had died and was in Hell and this was my punishment.”

“You were a goddamn war hero!” James said. “You sacrificed yourself to save the world. How could you ever think you’d go to that place?”

“I did a lot of things during the war. I know that it was battle and that men had to die, but I still remembered them. All those soldiers, so many of them were just kids, even younger than us. I killed German soldiers. I led American soldiers into battles that they did not return from. I knew that I was doing the right thing. At least I prayed that I was doing the right thing. It’s so easy to lose your way. Anyway, I was in a very bad state of mind. That’s why they sent me to a place not so different from this one.”

James started. “YOU were in a mental institute?”

“For everyone else seventy years had passed by. For me it had been two days. Two days since I had watched you fall. Just a few hours since I drove that plane into the ground and made my first real date with my girl. I… I was late. Peggy… she was a great gal, too. But eventually she moved on too. Found a fella, turned out to be one of the soldiers we saved. I was glad to hear it. I was glad for both of them. Still… it wasn’t easy. The doctors had me on suicide watch.”

“You… were like me?” James looked astounded. “I didn’t know. You seem so… well adjusted”

“It took a long time. The noises and lights bothered me. I got these constant migraines from all the flashing billboards. Everywhere I seemed to look had a television screen that was as wide as my thumb! And everything was in color! It was like when Dorothy had landed in Oz. The world was bright and shiny and fast. It all seemed so cold and far away from me. People didn’t talk to one another anymore. We used to say ‘Good morning,’ but now everyone would talk through phones that could fit in the palm of your hand. People looked at their phones rather than each other, except to shout insults back and forth. There was this obsession with taking pictures of everything, or making the most “friends” with people that they’d never even met. Women and men were walking around in next to nothing! In public! Showing off their… their underthings, and no one seemed to notice anymore! And the food! It was everywhere! So much of it. There was so much food that people were throwing it away. I remembered always being so hungry and what we wouldn’t have given to have a portion of that. Also, everything tasted strange to me. Either too spicy, or like nothing at all. And there was a metallic tinge that was in everything that I ate. It must have been in the water too, because everything tasted like metal. I stopped eating for a while. There was no joy in it anymore. The doctors told me my system needed time to adjust. I thought I was just crazy.”

“Not everything was bad, though. There were good things too. The Civil Rights Movement had happened. Gabe would’ve been so proud of that! Germany and Russia were now our allies. Women were now in the workforce and getting equal rights. Peggy, Howard and Colonel Phillips had founded S.H.I.E.L.D. They all fought hard to make this world a better place. There are some states that even let men marry men and women marry woman. People have more freedom with their lifestyles and religions nowadays. Families are what you make them out to be.

“And then I met the Avengers. I thought that I was the only freak in this world. Gosh, was I wrong about that. We didn’t get along at first. Heck, we all got close to killing each other long before the Battle of New York even started. Somehow we managed to work together. Reminded me of The Howling Commandos again. I think that was when I finally woke up for real. Things were far from okay. I was still a mess and things were still strange, but it felt as if I was finally crawling out of the ice. 

“But then they all had their lives to go back to, places where they belonged. I didn’t belong anywhere. So I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. Threw myself into my work. Thought that I could move on as well.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “I missed you! I missed you so much. Sometimes I would see something amazing in this brave, new world. Something that I knew you’d get a kick out of and I’d turn to show you, and it’d hit me all over again. It’s like I kept living through it. I couldn’t break that habit. I’d be fine one moment, then I’d see this coffee shop called “Starbucks,” Star-BUCKs, and I’d lost it. A grown man crying like a kid on a street corner. It had been you and me together against the world for so long. I was alive. I was healthy, famous; I finally had more money than I could ever spend. But it wasn’t home anymore. Not without you.”

James sat in silence, turning this over and over in his mind. “You know, you might never get your friend completely back again, right?”

“I know.”

“What if he’s gone for good? How do you know I’m not playing you right now? I could be the Soldier and you could still be my mission.”

“You’re not.”

“But how do you know?”

“I just do.”

“But how?”

“Because the man I knew, my brother, he was the bravest man I ever knew. He was my hero. Still is.”

He was close now, so close that I could pull him into a hug if I wanted to. If he’d want me to. But he was looking at me with such an odd, intense expression on his face. It wasn’t quite Bucky, not was it the Winter Soldier. This was James, I decided. The ache in my gut kicked again.

“You just don’t’ know when to quit, do you?”

I grinned. “Nope. I’ve been told it’s one of my more annoying qualities.”

“So, you let people help you?”

“It took some time to be able to trust them enough to let them in, but yes.”

“And that Tony Stark? He was someone who helped you?”

“I didn’t consider a friend. Not at first, but now he is and one of the best ones a guy could ever have. Yes, he helped me.”

James’s eyes flashed. Was he still thinking about Howard? We still hadn’t spoken about that. I didn’t dare bring the subject up before he did.

“How…how did you start to adjust to you’re new life?”

“Little things, I guess,” I said. “I wasn’t comfortable with computers at first. Kept thinking I’d break those tiny smartphones. So they gave me books. I read a lot. Anything I could get my hands on about past and present events. Then someone came in and showed me how to use a laptop. It got easier the more I practiced. The Internet is so helpful, and so much fun. Like I said, I didn’t sleep much at first, so I tried to learn as much as I could about the future. There are a lot of good things, like that music that you listen to.”

He nodded. “Yeah. There’s that.”

“You can ask for help, you know. Even if you don’t, you still got it, pal.”

James threw me a smirk. “One more question.”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell is the Vine?”

“No idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for waiting for this chapter. A lot of it has been inspired by posts and fan art I've seen on Tumblr.
> 
> I apologize if I got the time lines wrong. I wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed between Captain America waking up and the Avengers. To me it seemed like only a few weeks. During that time, Steve was still trapped in the ice in his own mind. He still wasn't able to move on from the guilt and the sorrow he was going through. Joining the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D helped him cross that river, but part of him was always still stuck on that train with Bucky.
> 
> It's only together that they can learn to live again.


	16. Chapter 16

“Something in me, dark and sticky  
All the time it's getting strong  
No way of dealing with this feeling  
Can't go on like this too long

This time you've gone too far  
This time you've gone too far  
This time you've gone too far  
I told you, I told you, I told you, I told you

Don't talk back - Just drive the car  
Shut your mouth - I know what you are  
Don't say nothing - Keep your hands on the wheel  
Don't turn around - This is for real

Digging in the dirt - Stay with me, I need support  
I'm digging in the dirt - To find the places I got hurt  
Open up the places I got hurt

Digging in the dirt - To find the places we got hurt  
Digging in the dirt - To find the places we got hurt”

Peter Gabriel -- “Digging in the Dirt.”

 

\--Are you feeling better this morning, James?--

Yes.

\--I know you didn’t want to talk much yesterday, are you up to it now?--

Yesterday... yes. But James, no. I’m still not James.

I’m sorry about yesterday morning. I wasn’t really.... I just, I had these dreams and memories and thoughts and I just wasn’t ready to talk about it. Thing is, it wasn’t even a bad day after that, just the morning after that night...

I was dreaming. The causeway tracking down a man and a woman. I’m not myself I’m back to what I was. I’m a machine with no thoughts or feelings... but something happens to me. My targets fight back. They are good and this infuriates me. The woman manages to hit me, cracks the glass so I rip the goggles from my face.

“Она моя. Найди его.”

And you have to understand, all of my thoughts were almost always in Russian. My commands to myself, the name of every move that I made against them - my every instinct - прикончить.

I’m angry. This is never good. Emotions distract me from the mission. That is why I am never to have them. I hear her, I move in to take her out - fucking phone. Everything goes to hell from there. 

My anger is getting the better of me. I can feel it, I’m off by just enough - and then he attacks. 

He is fast and just as strong as I am. I’m confused - I can’t understand this - I’m trying so hard to hit him and I keep missing. My heart is pounding and I don’t know if this is from the exertion, anger or something else... it is all of those things and...

It is something else.

That is when I woke up, laying in bed with my heart still racing as if he is still on top of me - he is. The flood of of feelings nearly kills me as I lay there. This is no dream, this really happened. I’m still confused - the scene plays out rapidly in my head before I can even begin to understand that I am lying in a bed in a hospital - I’m not. I’m back in that street - fighting him.

I’m trying - I’m trying so hard - the fucking shield - get it away from me. I try to crush his neck - he fights me off. I try to stab him over and over...

It all happens so fast, he grabs me - I feel the mask being ripped from my face as my body is sent flying several feet in the air. I land on the side walk my rage - I am burning - убить его

I turn to face him. He stares at me with such a stupid look on his face that I am taken aback by it. What is his problem?

“Bucky?” he stammers this sounding so lost

And I am so confused by it all that I speak my thought out loud - in English.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

What is this what am I..... feeling why am I feeling -

Everything goes to hell again. He is apprehended and I turn to run away - I flee to the extraction team. I don’t want to know what just happened - or what is happening to him. I don’t want to think about anything.

But I can’t stop thinking. Sitting - nearly shaking in the back of the van. What the hell is wrong with me? What makes it all worse is that the others know something is wrong. The watch me with suspicion. These men were mine - all of them there to support me, keep me armed and follow my every command. Now the mission is over and I am theirs.

I know this, I should be used to it but this horrible thing inside of me - fear. Fear, and the horrible sickening feeling that something is so profoundly wrong. 

Who the hell is Bucky? I can’t stop thinking it - I don’t understand. The way he looked at me - what was that? I can’t stop seeing it. Every time I closed my eyes in that van and on the way back I could see nothing but his face and the way he looked at me.

Who the hell is Bucky - no - who the hell was he? Who was he? I can’t shake this feeling - I can’t - and it is the only thing that matters - I knew him.

What happens after that I - random flashes - memories of another person. And now I know that something is wrong -

Or I knew. They took it from me - they always take my memories. They take all of my thoughts and turn me back into.... They turn me against him.

What they did to me - they made me want to kill Steve.

I still don’t know - if all that is true, that I was once some other person named Bucky, or James or whatever it is you want me to be, but every instinct that I have.... I could never hurt him. I never want to hurt him.

That is my greatest fear.....

I was so upset after all of that came back to me. I stood in my room by the narrow slit of the window dying - waiting for the sun - light - hope - for any sign of daylight in the sky. 

The sky finally turned from black to blue, and only then did I stop shaking. I wrote to Steve. I wrote him a note that I had every intention of giving him - because I didn’t think that he should ever see me again. I still have it. I forgot that I had it until this morning...

“Steve,

I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry for everything. I remember enough now. That day that I nearly killed you on the bridge - I’m so sorry.

I remember how you looked at me when you called me Bucky. You looked like someone had died. And when I asked you who Bucky was, you looked as though you had died.

That is just it. I think I did kill something in you that day.

They called me the asset. They say that I am an assassin. They say that I am a ghost. Maybe that is what I truly am. Maybe that is all I can ever be - the ghost of a boy that you once knew.

I am the ghost of a boy you can never see again. The boy is gone. Don’t look for him, ever.

Whatever you do, don’t look for him in me. All that I can ever do is haunt you. I can only hurt you worse that any knife or bullet ever could. Stay away from me Steve. Bucky is dead.

Run far away and don’t ever look back.”

 

I meant to give it to him. I held it in my hand as I watched the sun break over the horizon. So damn quiet. I can’t open the window to know if birds....

And that is when I remembered the MP3 player. Guilt washed over me, he gave it to me. He convinced them to let me keep pens, books and the MP3 player in my room - but me desire outweighed my guilt.

I played Alice in Chains as dawn turned to day. I started to feel well enough to almost function. I even debated giving the note to Steve. Maybe I could just go on as a new person and he would accept me as a new person. 

Yes, I was here and didn’t say much to you yesterday. Just walking was hard enough.

Running though, I wanted to run.

I’d been running for a while when they finally came. Both Sam and Steve. We ran together, all three of us. I was upset at first, Steve at my side when I’d been meaning to tell him to never see me again... but with him at my side I almost forgot how upset I had been....

And Sam, he makes me laugh. Steve and I, we aren’t even trying and still he has trouble keeping up.

I still want to run - really run. Someplace with out a wall or, people watching me. I’d keep Sam and Steve with me though, or - just Steve. Sam can just try to keep up. Once we really run....

I like him though. He and Steve - always brining up food - arguing about it. Is that what normal people do? Did I ever do that? I try to say what Steve would want...

Sam left us. Steve seemed really happy. I thought of the letter. I thought of trying to tell him, but the way he looked then - I couldn’t do it. 

I didn’t want to hurt him - and as much as I am afraid of hurting him by staying with him, by letting him stay with me - I didn’t want to ruin it what little there was between us. Him bringing me music and some small fragment of memory... wasn’t that enough to go on? How he told me what happened to him... how he died in the ice...

The ice... and that is when I remembered - he never answered my question. I asked him about the ice. I wanted to know how it was that he managed after he woke up... What if I forgot the note? What if I could be brave and ask him the question instead?

It is funny - I finally worked up the nerve to ask and suddenly I was afraid of what he might say. I don’t know why, but as he began to explain, my fear started to make sense.

Everything that he described - 70 years... I woke up once in a while. I never fully saw the world but I saw things enough to not feel fear at the sight of changes over time. I just accepted it - but for him.

I hate it - when he tells me these things. I feel actual physical pain inside when he tells me how he has been hurt. I don’t understand why at all. Pain I know, I can take it, but the thought of him scared of hurt is the worst thing I can.... Why should I feel that way?

But he tells me these things - he tells me he thought he was in Hell - that he deserved Hell. He - Steve Fucking Rogers - no. I’m the one.... why would he think that?

And then he told me.... he told me that they sent him to a mental institution too. Like this place. I still can’t bear the thought of it. Why him? He is so stable and well adjusted. Why would he ever... why would he ever be like me?

It all made me so sick. It still does. He is better than me and he deserves better. I made up my mind. I wouldn’t tell him to leave me - I can’t imagine my life - the shred of life that I have with out him. I wouldn’t tell him to leave, but I had to say it, “You know, you might never get your friend completely back again, right?”

...He.... What the hell did I ever do in my last life to make a person las nobel as him be so loyal to me? He will never leave me. So you have any idea how that makes me feel? I’m not supposed to feel - I’m not supposed to feel at all let alone feel something so intense. I feel like I’m drowning.

He drowned too once, he died and was so terribly hurt by it... but he is all right. And he did give me the answer I was so desperately seeking. He told me that it was little things - like music. The new friends he made in the Avengers... like I had with Sam...

And that was it. After that we spend most of the afternoon listening to music and looking things up on the internet. We finally learned what a vine was. I almost wish we didn’t, but then again we did laugh a lot. 

Then there was the record that he had us play... “Siamese Dream,” we both really liked it. I’d heard “Gish,” he played it for me last week I wanted to play both of them again.... Steve started telling me about another record that they had done - Smashing Pumpkins - it was called “Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness.” The way he talked about it - it sounds like it would be the best record ever considering how much I loved the first two. He was talking about the cover art, and in that moment, the nurse came.  
“I’m sorry,” she tells him, “But visiting hours are over.” She takes the air from my lungs and leaves me stricken - smashed in the face with the harshness of my live and what it truly is... When Steve is here - I forget and I am almost a person. But he leaves, and...... I hate it. Then I am just - here. I’m nothing more than a mental patient in a hospital. He gets to go home to a life that I am not a part of...

I hate it.

Have I said enough now? Can I go now? He said that he would come today. I want to run - I want to see Steve and Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I'm really sorry if the Russian is incorrect.
> 
> I'm also sorry that updates haven't been as frequent. I've been so busy with orders from my Etsy shop, but one of them was for Winter Soldier gear, which made my week!! The nice thing is that I am always seeing these chapters in my head as I work. I will have a new chapter ready soon, Adventuresofbuckybear(Jenn) has already started her chapter - in fact she is writing it as I am typing this so hopefully it will be up soon.
> 
> Also I thought I'd share a photo of Jenn and I in our Winter Soldier/Captain America costumes that we wore to the midnight premiere of the movie. I am Bucky and she is Steve of course. http://daturasnape.tumblr.com/post/84767547021/captain-america-stealth-dress-and-winter


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve returns to his apartment to discover that something is not right.

Keep you in the dark  
You know they all pretend  
Keep you in the dark  
And so it all began

Send in your skeletons  
Sing as their bones go marching in again  
They need you buried deep  
The secrets that you keep are ever ready  
Are you ready?

I'm finished making sense  
Done pleading ignorance  
That whole defense

Spinning infinity  
Boy, the wheel is spinning me  
It's never ending, never ending  
Same old story

What if I say I'm not like the others?  
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?  
You're the pretender  
What if I say that I will never surrender?

In time or so I'm told  
I'm just another soul for sale, oh well  
The page is out of print, we are not permanent  
We're temporary, temporary  
Same old story

What if I say I'm not like the others?  
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?  
You're the pretender  
What if I say that I'll never surrender?

I'm the voice inside your head you refuse to hear  
I'm the face that you have to face, mirrorin' your stare  
I'm what's left, I'm what's right, I'm the enemy  
I'm the hand that'll take you down, bring you to your knees  
So who are you? Yeah, who are you?  
Yeah, who are you? Yeah, who are you?

Keep you in the dark, you know they all pretend  
What if I say I'm not like the others?  
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?  
You're the pretender  
What if I say I will never surrender?

–Foo Fighters “The Pretender”

 

It was dark by the time I got back to my apartment and immediately I had the feeling something was not right.

That little pinprick at the back of my neck was alerting me to something. Last time this had happened my so-called “neighbor” had told me I must have left my radio on. I had crept into my own place through the window to find my boss half dead in my favorite recliner listening to my records. It wasn’t long after that discovery that he was shot down while I had been powerless to prevent it. 

Fury had since gone underground, somewhere in Europe but was keeping off the grid. Something told me that this was not he this time. It wasn’t his MO to risk the same maneuver twice. 

Neither did I. So sneaking in through the window was pointless. I approached the door with caution, taking in any sound of movement, breathing, the smell of sweat or gun oil. 

There was nothing. I opened the door. On first glace it appeared empty. Nothing had been disturbed. My shield, after a team had recovered it from the bottom of the Potomac, was still at its place on the wall. Not a burglary then. I could still see the spot where he fell. In spite of the clean up crew and the endless hours of scrubbing, I swear I could still see the blood stains on the floor, could still see Nick’s lifeless body crumbling and the figure lurking on the roof.

I stated to search for hidden camera or bugs. I had since discovered all the ones that Fury had had planted around my place. Before he had left he had even given me a list of their hiding spots. “For a clean slate,” he had said with as close to a genuine smile as he could muster. But this was still Nick Fury, so I searched yet again for one last secret. 

There was nothing. Nothing. The apartment was empty. No one was there but myself.

And that’s when it hit me. I was alone. But I wasn’t really alone anymore. I had Sam. I had Natasha and Tony and the other Avengers. Even Fury was a strange part of my new extended family. And I had James. He might never be the Bucky Barnes that I knew, but James was my friend and he a wicked sense of humor and stubborn streak that reminded me–. No, I couldn’t keep living in the past. The only way to go was forward.

Today had been a good day. It had felt peaceful, like old friends who had known one another for years. James had even joked around with Sam, like he used to do with the troops, or the lads down at the dance halls. And talking was helping, not just for James but for myself as well. I didn’t think that there was another person out there I’d have been able to discuss these things with. James may have needed me, but I sure as hell needed him too.

When that nurse had come to tell us that visiting hours were over, I froze. It felt like something was being ripped away from me. I had wanted to stay longer. To talk more, to listen to more music, to… I didn’t know what. All I knew was that I wanted to stay.

Bucky and I had lost seventy years being apart. I didn’t want to lose one more minute.

My cell phone rang and I nearly crushed it in my haste to get to it. “Bucky?”

“Thanks, man. I’ll try not to feel too rejected.”

“Sorry, Sam. Sorry about that. I just, ah–“

“Have a lot on your mind?”

“That obvious, hun?”

“You are a bit of an open book,” Sam said. “Remind me to play poker with you sometime. I like your bike. So, you doing okay, man?”

“I wanted to ask you something, and be honest with me?”

“You’re thinking of busting your pal outta there? Cause let me tell you, that’s not exactly the best idea you’ve ever had. And I was with you when you went up against an army with only five people.”

“I don’t want to bust him out. It is a check-in hospital. James can leave at any time. He could stay with me.”

“And you think all those hidden agents are just going to let him walk free? Plus, isn’t HYDRA still out there? Could there be people still looking for him? And what if these doctors didn’t get ever single trigger in his mind, hun? Think you can take that risk?”

“I’m asking do you think that he’s ready to leave? He’s been doing so much better.”

“I know that he has. Listen, you’ve got a rather big blind spot when it comes to this guy. He has almost killed you a few times now.”

“But he didn’t.”

“He nearly killed Nat, and me.”

“But that wasn’t him. He saved me. He could have let me drown but he didn’t.”

“Yeah, I know that, but he is dangerous. He’s been a living weapon for decades. You think a few months of therapy are enough to undo all that? I know you want you’re friend back, to help him out of misplaced guilt you’re feeling. It’s understandable. The thing you have to ask yourself is, is this what he wants or is it what you want?”

I was shaking. My knees felt weak and I had to sink to the floor. “I-I don’t know.”

“Easy, pal. You asked me to be honest and I am. I like James. He’s funny and a pain in the ass. He has shown improvement, more than I’ve seen in a lot of veterans and that’s good. All I’m saying is that you should take it slow. If he’s not ready to take a run around the Mall, then how can you ask him to leave a place where he’s finally started to feel some small form of security? You really think this is for the best?”

Because he’s my brother. Because it was always us against the world. Because he saved me. Because I don’t want to be alone anymore. Because I need him. Because something might happen and I might lose him again and if that were to happen… I won’t survive the pain again. I won’t.

“What should I do?” I managed to choke out.

“It’s gotta be his call. When he’s ready, he’ll say so. You have to respect his personal needs and be patient until then. Let him tell you what he wants to do.”

“I-I know. Okay, yeah, alright.”

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna go grab a beer? Let’s go out for a bit, get some drinks. You game?”

“Yeah. That sounds good. Thanks, Sam.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings. This chapter contains several mentions of war and torture. I will never write graphically about such things. The movies are far more graphic than what I’ve written - but I felt I should give people a heads up.

“Gunfire in the street  
Where we used to meet  
Echoes out a beat  
When the bass goes "bomb"  
Right over my head  
Step over the dead  
Remember what you said

You know a part about life  
Is just a waking dream  
Well I know what you mean  
But that ain't how it seems right here, right now

How can this be real?  
I can barely feel  
Anymore

I am trying to see  
I am trying to believe  
This is not where I should be  
I am trying to believe

Blood hardens in the sand  
Cold metal in my hand  
Hope you understand the way that things are gonna be  
There's nowhere left to hide  
'Cause God is on our side  
I keep telling myself

I am trying to see  
I am trying to believe  
This is not where I should be  
I am trying to believe”

Nine Inch Nails - “The Good Soldier”

 

\--Are you ready to begin, James?--  
   
No.  No, don’t call me James.  The nuns in the orphanage called me James.  Everyone else calls me Bucky.  
   
\--You remember that?--  
   
..........Yes.   
   
\--When did you remember this?--  
   
I don’t know...  Maybe just now.  Maybe yesterday.  Last night?  I don’t know.  
   
\--Would you like to tell me more about the orphanage?--  
   
.....What do you want?  Some idyllic story of two little boys playing ball in the streets of Brooklyn on some warm summer evening?  The sky some perfect shade of gold as the sun sets over the city and the streetlights come on magically one by one?  The world is full of laughter and everyone is safe and at peace?  
   
You are as bad as Steve.  He keeps telling me these things as if it will bring me back.  
   
No.  I don’t see kids playing when I close my eyes.  I see war.  I see killing.  All that I can see is death.  
   
When he isn’t here - when he goes home... it is as if the lights are turned off and I am left in the dark.  He wants so much for me to remember.  I know now, I don’t want to remember.  
   
He was here yesterday.  Everything was perfect. I forgot I was in an asylum.  We were what he wanted.  Two kids in a yard, playing music.  We sat alone in a corner of the courtyard.  He played “Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness.”  
   
That record was the most beautiful - awful thing that I have ever heard.  Everything about it musically was perfect - the lyrics.  Billy Corgan’s words speak truths that no man or woman wants to see.  These musicians write things that you have cannot even begin to admit to yourself - but when they express them, it changes everything.  You are forced to confront something, and as painful as it is - it is a relief not only to do so, but also to know that you are not alone in feeling things...  
   
He says, “I sensed my loss, before I even learned to speak.”   And that isn’t even the worst of it.  He says far worse.  He actually says, “We're all dead inside the future of a shattered past.”  And still - far worse words on that record.    
   
So, yes... hours with Steve, experiencing that record... last night I.....  
   
Do you know what else he says - he says “Sleep will not come, to this tired body now...”  
   
I didn’t sleep last night.  How could I?  That music, mixed with Steve’s stories in my head...  things began to come back to me.  For once I did not have the strength or the will to fight them.  
   
I get it now.  Why I fight it.  For all the stories he tells me, it is never his memories that come back to me.  It is all the things that I don’t want to know.  “Where boys fear to tread.”  
   
There is nothing left of me.  I am nothing but a collection of nightmares.  But he just, won’t let it go.  Him and me.  School yards, baseball fields, the first snow falling on the city...  I don’t remember that.  He thinks that he can save me.    
   
You can’t bring me back, he can’t bring me back.  But he was always too stupid to walk away when he’d been defeated.  So stupid - we both were.  
   
No.  You know what my problem was?  My problem was that I couldn’t keep my fucking mouth shut.  That’s why they took me.  
   
See, Steve - he’s always standing up for what he believes in - and they’d beat him up because they could.  No me - I knew I could kick their asses, but I had no reason to do so until he came.  And the thing is - once you start down that path - you don’t stop.  So there we were.  He’d dig his heals in against kids twice his size.  He knew he was right and he wasn’t going to budge.  And he wouldn’t.  Even being so small and always so sick.  They would have killed him, and I wasn’t going to let that happen.  So there I was, giving kids bloody noses and black eyes.  
   
So here we are now.  He stood his ground and they transformed him into a shining hero.  I fell and they defiled my body and turned me into a machine whose only purpose is to kill.  
   
That’s why they took me.  I was good at it.  I was a stone cold killer and they knew it.  
   
I don’t want to know that night or what followed.  I’ve fought off all memory of it - every night for the past few months it has gnawed at me.  I let myself remember falling - and I have been trying to forget ever since.  
   
“Remember when we were kids going to Coney Island, Buck?”    
   
No, Steve - all I can remember is lying cold and wet in a trench surrounded by gunfire.  Everything smells like metal, smoke and blood.  What the fuck is wrong with you - Coney Island....  
   
That fucking trench.  Not that trench - any other fucking trench but that one.  
   
You go into this and you think you can take it.  You are strong and you can hit targets better than anyone in the camp.  You excel in training and you think that you are ready.  
   
Nothing can prepare you for the first time you see someone’s head blown off.  People - men you’ve spoken to, laughed with - friends laying dead in the ash and mud...  And it isn’t like it is in the newsreels.  Some bullet hole then they fall down.  The raw carnage of it is unbearable.  
   
It doesn’t happen once.  It doesn’t stop happening.  You freak out - you cry when no one is looking.  You catch another soldier going to pieces - you look away to give them their dignity, but what is dignity at that point?  Who cares when that same soldier could be flat out dead by morning?  
   
You think that it can’t get worse but it does.  The pain you feel when you see a friend fall... until the day that the pain goes away.  You watch a man die and you feel nothing.  You take life after life and no longer feel any remorse.  
   
Fucked up - everything fucked.  Dugan shouting - God Dugan.  Gabe...  Both of them.  I don’t want to see it...  I liked them - and I’ve fought this off - sacrificing the memory of them so that I wouldn’t have to see.....  
   
Too late for that now.  The trench was real.  So fucked - we were so fucked to begin with - dodging enemy fire - too much of it - we barely even made it to that trench.  I catch dirt in my mouth as I crash into it.  We are out gunned with no way to call for help - but we are not going to give up.  There is fear but the will to fight is so much stronger that you forget and keep firing against all odds.  
   
I just react to the targets, forgetting my own fate - focused only on the cross hairs - and that is when I see it.  
   
It isn’t real - it isn’t fucking real.  But they have seen it too.  Gabe and Dugan have dropped their weapons - and in the shock of it we all stand to watch helplessly in disbelief.  No.  No this can’t be real.  I’m dead and in hell - this isn’t happening.  
   
You watch someone die - even the worst of wounds - there is a body.  Mangled and torn to pieces, but there is a body.  A bomb at ground zero yes - but this isn’t a bomb.  What the hell is happening?  
   
I’ve seen everything - nothing can ever be worse.  The absolute horror I feel in that moment as I stand there and watch as men are vaporized into thin air - hit with a beam of blue light - then - nothing.  Nothing - what?  Where are they?  Vaporized as if they never existed in the first place.  
   
No - no this can’t be happening.  But it is.  It happens again and again.  Several dozen men are erased from the world as we stand watching.  We have forgotten ourselves.  We’ve given up our position - and that is when a tank four times the size of anything we’ve ever seen rises over the hill.  
   
We dive into the trench at the last second.  This time I breathe in the dirt.  It fills my throat and my lungs.  It is all there is to breathe.  There is no air - only fire.  I can’t hear, but I can feel the ground shaking.  I can’t see - fire only fire.  
   
Gabe is shaking me.  Screaming in my face.  He looks like shit.  So does Dugan.  He scrambles backwards on his hands and slams his back into the dirt wall.  He rolls his eyes up towards the sky.  The only man more defiant than me.  He has it in him to look up.  He is sitting under his own power.  Gabe and I cling to each other.  I can make out muffled sounds now...  
   
We crawl to Dugan, and I know what is happening.  The fire has died down - men are shouting.  We sit together, trying to make the most of what little time we will have.  We will our sense and strength to return before the come for us.  
   
All to soon the gun slams me in the back of the head.  My helmet rings with the sound.  We stagger to our feet.  This is it.  We are prisoners.  
   
I don’t know how long we’ll have.  Minutes, hours - days maybe.  We march with our heads up.  Surrounded by machines, and men who might as well be machines behind their masks and black armor.  I’m not going to let them scare me into submission.  So what if they torture me, kill me... I’m not afraid.    
   
That is what is so sickening.  I really wasn’t.  But if I had known what they would do - the true torture - the eternity of a living nightmare that I cannot wake myself from... if I had known then what they were going to do me I would have put that Springfield riffle in my mouth and pulled the trigger without any hesitation.  
   
What the fuck did I know?    
   
I remember thinking - “My life is over.”  I wasn’t wrong - but I just kept thinking that I would die.  A week, a day - a few months tops but I knew that I was going to die at the end of that march.  
   
I suppose I spent most of that time preparing myself for death.  I told myself that it wouldn’t last, no matter how long the physical pain endured that it would someday end and I would be dead.  I had to be strong, I knew that - and I was but, I had unfinished business.  The life that I wouldn’t live didn’t matter so much as the fact that I wouldn’t be there to take care of Steve.  Who would bail him out when he was in over his head?  Who would take care of him when he was sick?  How would he be able to make the rent without me?    
   
I knew he’d be fine in the end.  He was too stubborn to do otherwise.  I thought about him back at home, cold - sick maybe - but at least he didn’t have to see what I saw.  His illness protected him from that at the very least.  I was almost grateful for it.  I never wanted him to see what I saw.  Stupid... I remembered thinking how it would be for him when he got the letter.  “I’ll make him tea when he gets the letter,” I thought.  And that is when I knew the lack of sleep had gotten to me - because of course, I won’t be with him in Brooklyn when he gets the letter, I’ll be laying dead in a Hydra camp.  
   
We were almost there.  Dawn was about an hour off.  I know Dugan and I said things to one another.  Gabe I can’t recall.  But they heard me speak to Dugan - so once we got there, they separated us.  
   
I never knew where they took them, but I was taken to the loading docks.  So this was a factory.  They set me to work immediately.  Fine, factory work I knew.  Within the first hour I watched two men collapse and die from exhaustion.  
   
We loaded crates from dawn until sometime after midnight.  At some point in the day a door opened and I could see inside the main part of the factory.  That same God-awful blue light everywhere.  That light that disintegrated human beings in seconds - and now I was helping to create and transport it to other Hydra facilities.  
   
We slept maybe 3 hours, but we were woken up every few minutes.  It was hell - so much so that I was almost happy to return to the floor.  
   
I’d mouthed off several times by the second day.  I’d been hit for it, but I didn’t care.  Another man was about to collapse.  I took the crate from him and lifted it onto the truck so that he wouldn’t have to.  The tank of a man behind the black mask screamed at me in German.  I knew enough German to tell him off in his own language.  
   
And then he spoke - in English.  That - fucking - sick - fuck of a human being if he even was.  I hate him.  I hate him - I hate him.  
   
I can’t - I can’t breath - I can’t - my skin crawls at the very thought of him but I can see his face and hear his voice as clear as day.  I cannot explain in words, the rage, the anger, the abject fucking fear and terror and disgust that fills me when I think of that man. It is every nightmare that I have - every memory that I fight so hard not see... fucking Zola.  
   
“He will do,” he says in that high-pitched pig voice of his.  
   
So they took me to the wing that all men feared - because no one taken there ever came back.  They threw me into a room and left me in isolation for a day or so before they finally came for me.  
   
I knew what was going to happen.  I walked as if walking behind myself.  I wasn’t there anymore.  I went into autopilot.  I did what I’d been trained to do.  I shut down. I kept reciting my name, rank and serial number.  I left my body.  I’d been tied to a chair - they kept asking me questions.  They tortured me.  Electric shocks.  It wasn’t that bad, it went on for an hour or so.  I never broke - and even if I did, I didn’t know shit so it didn’t matter.  But I never broke.  
   
They asked me a question.  I answered, “Fuck you - Fahr zur Hölle!”  
   
He raised his hand to hit me again - then from across the room I heard him - “Enough!  This one has proven himself worthy.  We will proceed.”  
   
What?  What the fuck - proceed with what?  Jesus Christ what now?  What did I just prove?  I proved that I was tough, and that I wouldn’t break.  They were testing me.  If I had broken, they would have just killed me and none of this would have happened...  
   
I don’t remember much of what they did to me.  They strapped me to a table. They shot me full of drugs and some sort of rays.  It was just like the blue light, but it didn’t kill me.  I remembered thinking that it would...  
   
They left me there.  I was alone for hours.  I must be dying.  They did their sick Nazi experiments on me and now they have left me to die.  Fine.  This isn’t so bad... a few more hours and I’ll be dead.  I was alone. The room spun around me.  I’m dying.  Everything will be ok soon.  
   
I drifted in and out of sleep, dugs, pain - and exhaustion - mostly the exhaustion and confusion.  I hear the footsteps, I wake up and I know that they have come to finish me. The room is still spinning - I keep my eyes closed so that I can concentrate.  I recite my name, rank and serial number.  I can keep this up even now.  You won’t break me.  
   
I open my eyes and the room spins faster.  Human voice - an actual human.  Someone lays their hands on me - says my name.    
   
I try so hard to see, “is...is that...”  
   
“It’s Steve.”  
   
“Steve?”  It IS Steve - he is here - but he is different.  I died.  I’m free and Steve is here, but then why am I... why do I still feel pain?  Why do I still feel sick? He is lifting me off the table, how is Steve able to pick me up?  
   
My feet are on the floor but I can’t feel them.  He is holding me up - this is a dream.    
   
“I thought you were dead,” he says to me from a thousand miles away.  
   
I have to look up at him, “I thought you were smaller.”  Is this real?  I can feel him.  My hand grips the leather of his jacket tighter.  I stare at him - is he real?  This is real?    
   
This is real.  I don’t understand, but Steve is dragging me.  My feet graze the floor, but I still can’t feel the ground beneath my feet.  How can Steve carry me?  “What happened to you?”  
   
“I joined the army,” just like he would say it.  It really is him.  
   
Dear God, what have they done to him?  “Did it hurt?”  I can’t bear the thought of him feeling anything of what I felt.  
   
“A little,” he lets me go and some how I think I am able to walk behind him.    
   
I keep stumbling.  But he is fine.  He is strong in a way that I have never known him to be.  None of this makes any sense - and yet it does - finally after all this time, his body matches the strength of his heart.  “Is it permanent?”  Because I already can’t bear the thought of him returning to his former form.  I can’t see him sick again.  
   
“So far.”  
   
I follow him as best I can we run through fire and.... This man - he is talking and Zola is there.  I stare at the scene but I cannot make it out.  The man rips off his face.  Rips off his face.  There is nothing but a red skull.  Red Skull - wait, what the fuck - that name is -  
   
No!  No - not - Steve!  “You don’t have one of those do you?”  
   
They fight - what is this that Steve can fight?  I don’t understand but they leave and Steve tells me to climb across a beam.  Fire.  Don’t look down, but the fire is everywhere.  I make it but I’m not safe - he is not safe.  The beam falls.  No.  “There’s got to be a rope or something!”  
   
“Just go, get out of here!”  
   
“No!  Not without you!” Every fiber of my being screams this to him.   I stare at him - I will throw myself into that fire a thousand times over.  I will never leave here without him.  
   
He flew.  He flew over that fire and landed beside me.  I watched him fly and I didn’t care how he did it.  I just threw my arms around him - worried sick that he’d hurt himself landing so hard beside me, but he practically carried me out of that burning building.  
   
The shock of clear, cold night air in my lungs.  He still held me up as we made for the tree line.  I could see them all waiting.  Fucking God I could see Dugan.    
   
We didn’t need to talk - we formed ranks.  I marched beside Steve at the front of the column.  I don’t know who had given me the gun, but I marched at his side, pretending I was still a soldier and not a broken body.  We all did.  What else could we do when a boy whose body was broken for so long was leading us... single handedly free every last one of us.  
   
It wasn’t until dawn, the sun burning off the fog that I began to accept it.  This was all real - none of it had been a dream.  Steve was beside me.  I kept asking him questions.  He told me everything.  Project Rebirth, The USO tour.  My little Steve.  How many times had we seen that stupid fucking poster....  
   
We reached the camp.  All of the soldiers seeing us return - their faces... what ours must have looked like.  Colonel Phillips himself comes out to meet us - to meet Steve.  He has returned a hero.  He always has been.  Maybe now everyone will finally see what I see.  I don’t leave it to them - I call for them to cheer for him.  They do and I remember smiling, because I knew - and when I saw the look in his eyes, I knew he understood it too.  The deafening roar of cheers were not just for this one rescue mission that he fought alone against impossible odds, this is for every single moment that he stood up against impossible odds since we were children.  
   
And that’s when my heart sank - I actually felt it shatter as some part of me died.  All our lives, we had been two broken boys with nothing but each other, and now he was whole, and I was more broken than ever.  I thought that I hadn’t broken when they tortured me.  Marching back that morning, that is when I knew they had broken me.  I was barely holding it together, and once they began to cheer for Steve, I stopped trying.  What died in me then, it wasn’t just a fragment - it was the last part of me that was Bucky died. Steve didn’t need me anymore.  
   
Oh I faked it when he turned back to me.  I smiled, but I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.  I had no purpose and no will to go on and fight as I had.  I just wanted to go home.  
   
They separated us.  The wounded soldiers were taken for medical treatment.  I tried to refuse, so many others were far worse off than I was.  Steve insisted on it.  What the hell?  I was always the one telling him to go to the infirmary when he refused help....  I was too tired to argue, so I went.    
   
The last thing that I wanted to do was recount the tale of what had happened to me, but I knew I would have to.  I couldn’t remember enough of what happened to me when they had me strapped to the operating table, but I told them.  They said that I was fine.  They were wrong.  And I was an idiot to believe them when I should have known better.  
   
I didn’t tell Steve the full extent of what happened when we were reunited that night.  It was his day of victory - I wasn’t going to spoil it.  But I could tell by the way that he looked at me that he knew.  I hated it.  I never wanted him to worry about me.  But we both pretended that nothing happened.  The make shift celebration in the camp that night... you could almost forget that there was still a war.  
   
I remember that night, when everyone went to sleep.  I was lying in a bunk beside Steve.  He fell asleep before I did.  I was fighting sleep - I just wanted to take everything in.  I almost felt at peace.  This somehow seemed like being young or - home.  This was real, and he was beside me, my Ste- my friend.  I... I had this moment.  It was like I could see in that moment what the rest of my life would be - because there he was, and he was strong and healthy and finally it would be just us against the world.  
   
I was wrong.  Everything after that, everything was different.  The others... Dugan, Gabe - all of them.  I was there, but I was never really there with them.  I was never one of them after that.  We were a team, and my body would go through the motions every time - if we were drinking, fighting, singing or plotting out a mission...  I was never really there.  
   
I never wanted to be there.  After they bombed Pearl Harbor, I enlisted.  I couldn’t stand by and let them do that to my country.  I wanted to fight and defend America.  But after that Hydra base - I just couldn’t do it anymore.  I had nightmares. I jumped at every sound.  Someone tapped me on the shoulder from behind and I would make to punch him or worse.  My hands shook when we weren’t fighting - there were nights that I couldn’t manage to hold a glass of scotch.  
   
But I kept going.  Steve didn’t need me anymore, but I couldn’t just let him go in alone.  I kept going for him.  If I survive the next mission, fine.  If I fall, Steve will be fine.  He doesn’t need me anymore.  
   
I can’t recall the exact details of the endless string of missions that we went on after that - but I can see them all in a blur of time and space.  It is all I see.  The war, the trenches before he came - fighting by his side, missions where I attack with cold deadly accuracy, as a machine with a metal arm.   All these different lives... War, killing, torture - they are all the same, just different details.  I am nothing more than a collection of fragmented memories of war and nothing else.  I am nothing more than a murderer every time.  No memories of life outside of a war.  Just blood - so much blood on my hands and most of it Steve’s.  
   
I still remember how it felt - I can feel it now.  Blood rushing into my hands and they are soaked - stained bright red with his blood.  I have nothing but my hands - nothing else to hold it back.  I take him into the bathroom and finally find a towel.  He is protesting - he doesn’t want to dirty the thing.  As if I fucking care what they think when he is bleeding like that in his condition.  
   
This is all my fault.  I didn’t get there soon enough and look what the other kids did to him.  His nose and his lip are still bleeding, and all of this is my fault.....  
   
\--What happened after that?--  
   
After what?  
   
\--After you got the towel--  
   
I... I finally got the bleeding to stop.  I patched up all of his injuries as best I could and cleaned the blood off his face - and the rest of him.  
   
\--That doesn’t sound the actions of a murderer with no life outside of a war.  That sounds more like the actions of a healer, or a guardian.--  
   
............Maybe I was once.  I think maybe I was - maybe.  I - must have been.  Why else would Steve love me if I weren’t something else?  I never could understand why he keeps coming here.  But I still can’t believe it no matter how hard I try.  
   
I.... Fuck.  I’ve, fuck I’ve been saying it this whole time. I don’t want to remember it.  I can’t handle the responsibility of being someone’s friend.  I only just now.... “The stream of my misfortunes has given me the power to be afraid...”  
   
\--I’m sorry?--  
   
I don’t remember my life before the war because I don’t want to. I think that I have been fighting off those memories even more than I have been fighting off my memories of battle and death.    
   
I don’t know. I don’t know if I will ever remember or be anything close to what Steve says that I was... but I think that I might be ready to try.  
   
I have talked for far too long.  Can I go now?  I really need to talk to Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky references several songs from Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, and speaks in song lyrics a few times without really meaning to.
> 
> The songs are:  
> To Forgive  
> Tales of a Scorched Earth  
> In the Arms of Sleep  
> Where Boys Fear to Tread  
> Fuck You (An Ode to No One)  
> Porcelina of the Vast Oceans
> 
> I used that record for a few reasons. First because it is a one of the greatest records of all time. It is the kind of record that, as my friend says, “Make sure that you don’t have to go to school or work on the day after you play it for the first time.” It is the kind of record that is so beautiful, and so powerful both musically and lyrically, that it will make you stop and rethink everything. It forces you to confront feelings and recall things that you’ve forgotten. The record deals a lot with nostalgia and youth as well. It felt right that this, coupled with the time spent with Steve would unlock something within Bucky. It has done so for me on many occasions.
> 
> The second reason that I used it is a bit tricky. I started joking around about playing records over the Marvel Movies, the way one might do with The Wizard of Oz and the Dark Side of the Moon. It was a joke, but long story short, I couldn’t get the idea of playing Mellon Collie with the first Captain America film. The two synch up so perfectly that I was shaking the first time that I experienced it. The record and the film are now inseparable in my head. I had actually made a couple of videos about it. They are here if anyone is interested:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XX5gfoUxdoI
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCScbu0ojEY
> 
> As to both Bucky and Steve being in the orphanage, I know that MCU has changed Bucky's backstory a bit. Adventuresofbuckybear was insistent that they both be orphans together. It was really important to her, so I wasn't going to argue.
> 
> Thank you for reading. This was a long chapter, but I loved writing it more than I can say. I’m starting the next one as soon as I click post so I hope to have it up soon.


	19. Chapter 19

“I believe I can see the future  
Because I repeat the same routine  
I think I used to have a purpose  
And then again that might have been a dream  
I think I used to have a voice  
Now I never make a sound  
I just do what I've been told  
I really don't want them to come around  
Oh no  
      
Every day is exactly the same  
There is no love here and there is no pain  
Every day is exactly the same  
      
I can feel their eyes are watching  
In case I lose myself again  
Sometimes I think I'm happy here  
Sometimes I still pretend  
I can't remember how this all got started  
But I can tell you —exactly— How it will end  
      
Every day is exactly the same  
Every day is exactly the same  
There is no love here and there is no pain  
Every day is exactly the same  
      
I'm writing on a little piece of paper  
I'm hoping someday you might find  
I'll hide it behind something  
They won't look behind  
      
I am still inside here  
A little bit comes bleeding through  
I wish this could have been any other way  
I just don't know what else I can do  
      
Every day is exactly the same”  
   
Nine Inch Nails - “Every Day is Exactly The Same”  
   
   
   
I talked to her for far too long.  It is so late. Steve has probably been here for a while now.  I talked to her for too long, when it was him I should have been talking to.  But, he is just down that hall, such a short distance.  Too short.  I’m not ready to tell him just how much I have remembered.  I don’t know why.  I suddenly feel like I can’t speak.  
   
I see him through the glass doors before I can even open them.  He sits at one of the tables looking worried.  Has he been wondering where I have been?  I have to go to him.  
   
“Hey, James. I was starting to think you were busy, that I should come back another time.”  
   
“Steve.  It’s okay.  You don’t have to call me that any more.  I now know my name is Bucky.  I remember.”  
   
“...What do you mean?  How much do you remember?”  
   
“I don’t remember much.  Well, no - I remember a lot.  Just, not the things that you want me to remember - like us playing as kids.  I still only see flashes from that.  I have no real memories from back then. I just know that everyone called me Bucky at school and that I hated it when the nuns called me James...  Why aren’t you saying anything?”  
   
“Sorry, um, I guess I was just getting used to... you being this new person - I mean, I don’t care.  It doesn’t matter.  As long as we’re still friends - are we?”  
   
“What are you talking about?  I just told you that I remember things.  I know now that we have been friends since we were children - why would you ask me something like that?”  
   
“I’m sorry.  I wasn’t expecting this.  Of course I’ve wanted you to remember us being friends since the moment I first saw you that day in the street.  But that is what I wanted.  I don’t want you to remember if it makes you unhappy.  I thought you were happy being James.”  
   
“What the fuck are you talking about?  What is this about James as if I have been two separate people?  And how many times have I told you that James was not a name that I accepted as mine?  I know now why I never accepted it.  I didn’t accept it this whole god damn time because I never was James.”  
   
“Is it okay if I call you Bucky?”  
   
“You’ve been calling me Bucky since we were children.”  
   
“Do you remember the first time that you said I could call you Bucky?”  
   
“Steve.  No I don’t fucking remember that.  I just told you that I have little to no memory of being us being children. See, you always do this.  I have not slept for… I can’t even remember how long now because I have had all of these memories coming back to me.  I have been wanting to tell you everything since long before dawn and now you are back with this - ‘Bucky don’t you remember when we used to play ball in the streets?’ shit.”  
   
“I’m sorry. You’re right - I just…  I wasn’t expecting this.”  
   
“I wasn’t exactly expecting it either, Steve.  It just fucking happened.  And no - to answer your question I’m not exactly happy about it.  I didn’t want to remember.  I didn’t realize that until last night, or this morning.  I’ve been fighting it because I knew how awful it would be when I did remember.”  
   
“I’m sorry.  It’s the war, that is what you remember, isn’t it?”  
   
“Yes.  Parts of it.  I remember the days leading up to.... “  
   
“To what?”  
   
“The HYDRA base.  When they took me.  I remember being captured in on the battlefield.  I remember Gabe. I remember Dugan, but I also remember what happened. I remember you rescuing me.”  
   
“I’ll bet that must have thrown you for a loop. I still wasn’t used to… being tall. Everything else. When Colonel Philips told me that you might have been one of the soldiers that had been captured, all I could think of what that I had to get there and find you. Didn’t matter that I was alone, that I had no real training. It’s like I just knew what I had to do. I knew you were in danger and I had to get to where you were. When I found you strapped to that table, alive but so broken… it was the best and the worst moment of my life. I was just so glad that you were alive, and I wanted to kill everyone who had dared do that to you.”  
   
“I remember how you jumped and flew fifty feet in the air over an explosion.  How that sick little kid who was always getting beat up went into enemy territory alone, took on an army of guards and freed hundreds of men.  Fuck, Steve, I thought I was hallucinating the whole thing.  I was dying on a table and there you were, but you were huge and fucking people were ripping off their faces...”  
   
Steve couldn’t suppress a laugh. I couldn’t either.  
   
“Yeah,” said Steve. “That was a bit weird for me too.”  
   
“Back then it... well, after everything that has happened, it seems almost normal.  Now nothing is normal.  There is no solid ground to stand on.  
   
“This little kid who’d been sick and beat up saving everyone...  Steve I...   I was so happy for you that day.  Everyone was cheering your name.  You were a hero.”  
   
“I was just a dumb idiot who was lucky enough to able to sneak into a German factory without being shot. And I was wearing a giant flag on my chest. Says more about what lousy shots they were.”  
   
“Steve.  What you rescued from that HYDRA base... I think I was already dead.  I was but - I didn’t even know it then as much as I do now.  I mean.  Now I know that I was carrying the serum.  So I know now that physically I was dead.  But, then I only though it was my will to live that died.  When we made it back to the base, and everyone finally saw you for the hero that I had always known you were - whatever was left of the Bucky you knew fell away forever.  That was when I died.  My life was over because you didn’t need me anymore.  
   
“I still don’t know what the hell we did when we were ten, but I do know that I spent my life trying to protect you.  You and I - we were both so broken.  We’d lost everything and we were stuck in that fucking orphanage - but we had each other.    
   
The serum healed you and you became a hero.  You weren’t broken any more. You were whole.  And I - I wasn’t just broken.  I became a shell.  You didn’t need me any more”  
   
“What are YOU talking about now, Buck?  I always needed you. ALWAYS! I would have run all the way from that army base straight into Germany itself. Hell, I’ve have run around the world and back, fought the entire world, without stopping. I would have run myself into the ground and killed every HYDRA agent I saw, and I wouldn’t know when to stop because I didn’t know what the limits of this new body were. How far I could stretch before I broke. Because I wouldn’t get tired like I used to I’d just keep going if I thought I could save you and I’d collapse and no one else could stop me because they all thought I was this indestructible human weapon.  
   
“Only you were ever stubborn enough to make me eat and sleep and help me deal with all the horrible guilt of watching all our friends die in battle.  They all trusted me. They all thought an order from me was like a magic spell of protection, that if they followed me they’d be safe. And I tried. I tried to do what was best and would get our boys through the battle, and the next one, and the next one. Men still died. No matter what I did they still died. And they still trusted me and followed me. You kept me grounded. I needed you, Buck.”  
   
“I really did all that?  You still needed me?  How?  Granted I can’t remember much but  - I know enough to know that you were so strong and confident.  I can’t see how you would need me.”  
   
“I only ever wanted to be a soldier. I never wanted to be an ideal. I did something stupid, like you said, and I let them make me into this golden poster boy. America’s Hope. And they wanted so much from me.  The politicians, soldiers, civilians; everyone thought that I could stop the war single-handed. I was all alone. You have no idea how lonely it was for me, even worse than when I was a 90-pound-runt being ignored by the dames at a dance hall. I needed you to help me get through while the bastards ground me down a bit more each day. They only saw Captain America. You were the only one who treated me like Steve Rogers. Like I was still…human.  
   
“It’s a different era now, but that hasn’t changed. I’m still all alone and I still need you.”  
   
“I never knew you felt that way.  I don’t know what to say.”  
   
“I know that you don’t remember, but it meant a lot to me the first time you let me call you Bucky. Means a lot to me now, too.”  
   
   
“Steve?  
   
“......... Steve?”  
   
“Yeah?”  
   
“I want to go home.”  
   
   
“What?”  
   
“I don’t know.  I didn’t mean to spit that out like that.  I’m sorry, it’s just....  I do.  I don’ t want to stay here anymore.  I fucking hate it here.  I had a life once.  I was Bucky-fucking Barnes.  I’m not this weak, wounded thing that everyone makes me out to be.  I’m not this fucking James person that everyone pussyfoots around - one false move and I’ll lose it.  That isn’t me.  I’m not stray animal that needs to be tamed.  I’m sick of the way that they treat me.  This is worse than a prison.  I want to be a fucking person again and I can’t be that here.  
   
“What is this place really?  It is just another prison.  All I’ve done is trade brainwashing for antipsychotic meds.  They are trying to train me to be something else, too.  Get me out of here, Steve.  If you ever want me back, you have to get me out of here.  You and Sam are the only ones who treat me like a human being and not like some deranged child.  You know what has brought me back?  Therapy?  No.  You.  
   
“Please, Steve.  Please take me out of here.  I don’t know what else to do - I know that you have your own life.  I know that I can’t ask to stay with you.   I don’t even fucking remember having a home.  I don’t think that I ever did, but all I can think is, I want to go home.”  
   
“....All right, pal. All right, we’ll go home. I’ll take care of it. I’ll do everything that I have to do. It might take a bit, but I’ll get you home. Do you have any idea where you’d like to live?”

“With you. I can’t remember my home, but I know it must have been with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. This was the first chapter that AdventuresofBuckyBear and I wrote together. She writes Steve's chapters, and I write Bucky's chapters. We will try to write again soon. The next few weeks might be a little tough. We both have a lot of orders for our etsy shops to get through and our costumes to prepare for an upcoming convention. We're both going as Bucky/The Winter Soldier and Steve/Cap. So we're both really excited for it, but we will try to write a few times before then!


	20. Chapter 20

“Ain't it funny how we pretend we're still a child  
Softly stolen under our blanket skies  
And rescue me from me, and all that I believe  
I won't deny the pain  
I won't deny the change  
And should I fall from grace here with you  
Will you leave me too? 

Carve out your heart for keeps in an old oak tree  
And hold me for goodbyes-and whispered lullabies  
And tell me I am still  
The man I'm supposed to be  
I won't deny the pain  
I won't deny the change  
And should I fall from grace here with you  
Will you leave me too?

Too late to turn to turn back now, I'm running out of sound  
And I'm changing, changing  
And if we died right now, this fool you loved somehow  
Is here with you  
I won't deny the pain  
I won't deny the change  
And should I fall from grace here with you  
Would you leave me too?”

Smashing Pumpkins - “Galapogos”

 

Did they tell you?

\--About your wanting to leave?--

Yes.

\--They did. I think that would be a good thing to discuss this morning. Would you like to talk about it, Bucky? Are you still comfortable using that name?--

Yes. It is mine. And there isn’t much to say about my leaving - or wanting to. Yesterday I asked Steve if I could leave here and possibly live with him. I already know there will be red tape and a logistical mess to sort through... but he said he would get to work on it all as soon as he left yesterday. Knowing him, I’m certain that he worked through the night on it.

\--And what about you? Do you think you are ready to leave?--

Yes. It was one thing to be here in the beginning. The ground fell out from under me. I needed to find it again, and I think that I have - or at least as much as I ever will. Now I just feel trapped. I need to live my own life, and I can’t do that here. Everyone treats me like a child - or a dog. Sam was the first person to make me feel like a human, an adult. Whatever he said to Steve... I know that he must have talked to Steve. Both of them treated me like an equal. 

I’m still a mess, I know that. I know I will never have anything close to a normal life. I will never recover from this. How could I? That is why I’m so fucking sick of it here. Haven’t I been through enough? I don’t want to be trapped here anymore.

Steve tells stories about us sharing an apartment. I have no memory of it. Not even now. I used to shut him out when he started going on about things like that, but now I try so hard to remember - nothing. No memories outside of fragments of war, torture and murder.

I feared it for so long - everything returning to me - the years of killing and torture. Even the idea of feeling things - having emotions was too much. 

I think that is why I can’t remember being young. I’m afraid to remember that too. It is far too much responsibility to have been a person - especially knowing that I was once a part of someone’s life... to have been that and to have become a monster that kills so mercilessly - it’s too much.

I think I’m ready to face it now, the years of war I mean. And I think, maybe if I get through that - if I can break through the things that I fear to remember, maybe memories of the kid from Brooklyn that I once was - maybe then I can access them if I go through hell first...

Last night - I tried. 

I wasn’t even listening to Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, but I had “Thru the Eyes of Ruby” running through my head. It was so vivid - it might as well have been playing.

That song kills me, I don’t even know why, it is one of the hardest ones on the record to face. The lyrics, and the melody are one thing - but Chamberlin... the drums. The way that Chamberlin plays - I have no words for it. The worst part of the song though is how it ends. The way it fades - it sounds like the band actually recorded the sound of a dream fading away as you try so hard to hold onto it. Not just any dream - the kind that you want to be real but....

Forget it. Still, that is what I felt though - lying in my bed last night somewhere between sleep and consciousness. I wanted a life so much but the only memory I felt was one I have been fighting - one of horror. Fuck it. I decided to let go.

I can do this. I can remember. I can face this - it is just a memory. It is in the past. The only way I can ever move on is if I accept it. I need to see it. I need to understand what they did to this body. I need to know what they did to me. 

I can’t live with this - being told that I was someone. I want a memory that is mine - not some story fed to me by Steve - I want something real that I remember. I can’t life with these - memories of having been someone else - then this void of time and suddenly I am nothing but a machine. I need to know how they turned me into this thing. I can’t just watch these flashes of memory - I need to actually go back through them with my eyes open, I need to see it for what it really was. So that is what I decided last night....

I won’t fight it any more. I can do this.

I let the memories take me. I accepted it. I fell. 

Metal shutters and rips away beneath me - Steve’s hand - cold air rushes up to pulls me away from him... It all happens in a second. The anger and the horror of it - because this can’t be happening. I can’t fall - I can’t die. I can’t leave him...

Even as the snowy ravine rushes up towards me I don’t accept what is happening. How can I? I was only just looking down for miles at the place with the others, laughing about falling - fearing it but I knew it wouldn’t happen. It was too fast, I’m still clinging to the side of the train - If I reach for Steve just once more I will make it but when I grab frantically for his hand - even the bar that I had clung to - there is nothing but freezing air.

When I finally came to, I was still half convinced that I could still reach for Steve and pull myself back onto the train. I lay there, broken in the snow thinking over and over, I won’t fall. I kept trying to reach for him. I didn’t understand why my arm wouldn’t move.

I was so confused and so terrified when I began to understand what had happened. I told myself that Steve would come for me, just as he had when I’d been in the Hydra base. I couldn’t understand. Everything hurt so much - the snow was burning me. After a while though, I began to love it. The ice took my pain and left me numb. Numb, but unable to move.

This went on for days. I begged for death. I cried out for Steve. Even when my voice was gone. My spine and my ribs were shattered, my lungs were crushed and I could barely breathe. I couldn’t scream - it hurt like hell but I called out his name...

Days, weeks - an endless hell, never awake never asleep just begging to die and to see Steve. What the hell was I doing?

I think I was very near to death then. My last thoughts becoming somehow coherent. What the hell was I doing? All of the men that I had to helplessly watch as they died - they called out for their mothers. My mother died, I don’t think that I ever knew her. I had no family - so I called out for Steve. He was all that I ever had...

What the hell was I doing? I turned into him. Helpless in a broken body - no power to save myself. How could I cry out for him? I was grateful then that he hadn’t seen me that way. I was supposed to protect him, not the other way around. And that was when I began to understand - if I am still alive when I shouldn’t be, then I must still be alive for a reason. He still needs me. That was it - I would make it my mission to stay alive to protect him. That was always my purpose. That must have been why I was put on Earth, so if I was still alive...

My body may have been shattered, but I knew exactly who I was.

They came for me not long after that. There was no hope in me when I first heard the footsteps, because I just knew. I heard them coming closer, not English and of course not anyone I knew. Dragging me, limp I thought I could no longer feel but every rock and all the places where the snow had become ice seemed to tear at what remained of me. The way they held me up by my shoulders, I could finally see it, what remained of my arm, the blood that I left behind. I can’t bleed to death. Not now. I have to stay alive for him...

Their uniforms, the vehicles, the man waiting by the cars... I knew what it meant. Whatever they do to me, I have to stay alive.

The next thing I remember I was strapped to a table in a dark room with no windows. Everything is in a haze. I’m not sure if I am dreaming or awake. This isn’t a hospital, and this isn’t the Strategic Scientific Reserve. There are people I know - I want them to be there. I’m in trouble and I want so much to be there - to see familiar face of people that I know who will take care of me. Some place clean, some place safe - with windows. I roll my eyes back into my head - but I have to fight sleep. I have to - Steve. Steve I have to get out of this.

I’m in and out of consciousness. Voices, people speaking, “The procedure has already begun.” 

I want to kill the man speaking. I want to kill everyone. I’m fighting sleep but I keep blacking out. Pain and this gnawing fear bring me back - what are they doing to my arm? This horrible high pitched noise - machines - 

Stop. Stop it - stop...

Whatever they do to me - I have to..... 

“You will be the new face of Hydra.”

What the fuck.... 

I open my eyes. Whatever drugs I had been given are starting to wear off. But in their place - agony. My arm throbs with the most excruciating pain. My shoulder and my chest are burning. Every beat of my heart is torture, sending and unbearable wave of pain throughout the rest of my body. The smell - burnt flesh. Fire, and the unbearable taste of metal - not just the taste - I feel like my throat is completely sealed off by it. I can’t breathe - I can’t swallow. Water, please bring me water.

What have they done to me. My arm - my fingers - this weight on my left side. My hand is there, but something is wrong - am I dreaming? Have the drugs not worn off after all? I can move my fingers - how am I - I raise my hands from my sides.

Metal. I have a metal hand! My who arm is gone - my whole arm is metal - what have they done to me?

Someone approaches - I don’t hesitate. I choke him with the very thing they have used to turn me into some sort of freak. Get it off me get it off me. I’m screaming this - the man is dead on the floor - and they are moving in to sedate me - I fight - I fight - I have to get out -

“Steve!”

And that is the last I remember of that... But I knew then. I was confused, but I still had my memories.

After that, it was different. I’m in another room - it is a lab, similar to the last but this is a different room and a different day. I’m still in pain, but not nearly as much. My head is killing me, my ears are ringing, but the pain in my arm isn’t nearly as bad. The taste of metal is still there, but I don’t feel I’m choking on it any more. I’m still lying down, drugged I think, and I can’t move. There are doctors, scientist examining me - on the other side of the room - that sick fucking bastard -that fucking - Zola is talking to a group of men.

I’m trying to make out the words - “...This is your plan - that thing is nothing but a reanimated corpse.”

“You are wrong. He was the only one to survive - the only one whose body did not reject the serum. It has done more for him than we had ever had ever thought possible. He survived that fall -”

It is like I am not even here. They talk and say things as if I am an object in another room with no thoughts or feelings on my own.

“Even with the advanced cybernetics, that thing is broken. How do you hope to turn him into a soldier?”

“You are wrong - he is a fighter. I have watched him. He is a cold-blooded killer. He was defiant before the first procedure - this is why he was chosen. After the administration of the serum, he became even more lethal. His stamina improved, his marksmanship improved and his hand-to-hand skills were nearly as good as the American Super Soldier. We have only scratched the surface of what can be done with him, now let me show you to the training facility.”

They leave, and all I can think is - you are wrong - about everything, but for one fact. I am a cold-blooded killer - and I will see my hands run with your blood before this is over. I’m furious - and afraid, but there is something that keeps me from giving into the fear. Something, I’m just not sure what. I’m holding onto it - it is mine.

And the scientists - for all that they are so intensely focused on examining me, they don’t know. They don’t even notice that I am a person with thoughts. I’m holding on so tightly to my one thought - though I don’t know what it is - just that there is something that I have to do and it is the only thing that matters in the world.

So there I was. And that is when it must have started. Because I remember now - the horror as I lay there - no matter what I did, I couldn’t remember my name.

Another day. Another room. I am standing in a doorway. Men are watching. I know this. I know how important it is to impress them - my heart begins to race - but this is the present.

I am back in my room here. Whatever I was going to face in that room in the past, I was not ready to face it last night. I pulled myself out.

Then I was just lying in my bed - trying to make sense of it all - wanting more than ever to have a real memory of a real life. I wanted so much to believe that I was human once - with two arms made of flesh and blood - able to run outside and play baseball in the streets and in the yard behind the orphanage - but those are Steve’s memories, not mine.

Steve. Jesus fucking Christ, sometimes just the fact that I know his name... sometimes I think that a blessing. And then when I think that - I’m so fucking angry for all that they did to me that I don’t even know...

I was mad last night when I couldn’t remember more, that I had to bring myself back. The more I thought about it though... I was able to pull myself out. But, not only that, I was able to be lucid through out the whole thing. I know what I was thinking, what I was able to remember - so now I know when they began to fuck with my head...

So. So I was in control - last night I mean. For the first time I was in control of my memories and not the other way around. I know it won’t always be like that, but now I know that it can be done. And once I realized that - I actually felt that there might be some hope, even thought I was no closer to remembering an actual life where I was a human.

I didn’t want to sleep after that, and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to play part of Mellon Collie, but I didn’t want to deal with “Thru the Eyes of Ruby.” Instead I put on “Tales of a Scorched Earth,” I needed the violence of it - but that was a stupid thing to do. “Ruby,” of course follows that song, so I was stuck with it. Fucking Chamberlin kicks in on the fucking drums, and even as he does I feel myself slipping. My thoughts become non-sequiturs and I know I am beginning to drift off to sleep. 

Another fucking snare roll... ugly fucking green painted brick wall. But it was supposed to be my turn. 

She did this on purpose. Sister Theresa is still mad at me for correcting her when she kept calling Timmy by the wrong name. She is always mad at me. I want to play the drum more than anything - and she knows that so she won’t let me. It was supposed to be my turn this week. 

My only consolation is that Steve gets to play the piano again. She keeps letting him play because he is good. Still - it was supposed to be my turn this week. She gives the drum to someone else and I am stuck having to play the fucking bells. I hate her. I’m purposely fucking up the bells, all the while I am planning how I will sneak off after classes when everyone is outside so that I can come down to the basement when no one is here so that I can finally play the damn drum.

That was it. That memory - it ended there, but - it was real. I wanted to play the drums more than anything. That was real, wasn’t it? It had to be. Isn’t it? Steve never told me a story like that, unless he did and I blocked it out - fuck. Fuck I didn’t think of that until now. Fuck I wanted so much to believe that it was really my memory. But the wall, I can see the green fucking wall so vividly... Fuck.

Have I said enough? I really want to go see Steve now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone - thank you so much for reading. I'm so sorry for the delay between chapters! Last month adventuresofbuckybear and I went to Wizard World Philadelphia. The week before I left for New York, I had no time to write because I had to finish our costumes, the week that I was away we couldn't write, and when I got back I had so much to catch up on! I'm so sorry, but things are back to normal. We'll writing more often now.
> 
> AdventuresofBuckyBear is already working on the next chapter. 
> 
> In the meantime, you can see some of our photos of us from Philly Wizard World. We were lucky enough to meet Sebastian Stan who was wonderful!
> 
> http://datura-riot.tumblr.com/post/90111730521/this-is-the-story-of-the-horrific-things-that
> 
> http://datura-riot.tumblr.com/post/91405688991/adventuresofbuckybear-and-i-the-first-night-of


	21. Chapter 21

“You say you want diamonds on a ring of gold  
You say you want your story to remain untold  
But all the promises we make from the cradle to the grave  
When all I want is you  
You say you'll give me a highway with no one on it  
Treasure just to look upon it all the riches in the night  
You say you'll give me eyes in a moon of blindness  
A river in a time of dryness, a harbour in the tempest  
But all the promises we make from the cradle to the grave  
When all I want is you  
You say you want your love to work out right  
To last with me through the night  
You say you want diamonds on a ring of gold  
Your story to remain untold, your love not to grow cold  
All the promises we break from the cradle to the grave  
When all I want is you  
You  
All I want is you  
All I want is you  
All I want is you”  
“All I want is you” -U2

 

\--How are you this morning Bucky?--

I’m fine.

\--I know you had wanted to see Steve.--

Yeah. He sent word that he couldn’t come. I half expected this. I knew he’d go straight to work on getting me released. He said he would do everything in his power to get me out - that he wouldn’t rest until he had. Steve, he said he wanted everything to be perfect.

\--Were you all right with that?--

Yes. I can go without seeing him for a few days if it means I’ll be free every day after. Once we live together, we wouldn’t have to go through this. I would see him all the time. That, and it gave me time to think, to try and remember things.

\--And did you?--

Yes. I went outside. I sat by a tree in the courtyard, away from everyone. As usual, it wasn’t what I was trying to remember that came to me. Nothing linear, and nothing of being young but.... it sort of did come to that.

\--What do you mean?--

Well, I wanted to pick up where I’d left off. I don’t know if I did or not. I had remembered falling - Zola - what they did to my arm - him talking to men - then I remembered a room. I was so afraid when I stood in the doorway that I forced myself to forget. I wanted to know what it was, but nothing came back. Instead I was somewhere else.

For all I know it was another room in the same complex, or it was several decades later. I hate it. I never know. But I was in a room.

I almost think it was early on, my shoulder and my chest were on fire - just as they had been after..... So it could have been soon after they first violated my body and...turned me into a freak. Or maybe they did something to my mechanical arm. I was in a room, not a hospital - a lab. There is a difference. But I was sitting in a chair while men were doing tests on my arm or something. There was another man standing - he was the one talking. All I remember is being confused and out of it.

“We’ve been through this. We have to keep going through this of course because you have had memory problems since you were a child. This was likely a result of the opiates you were all addicted to. As to your name, you never had one.

Your mother never gave you a name. She abandoned you as soon as you could walk. We know this from the other thieves and street children. You lived with them on the streets of Moscow until the time of the accident.”

“Accident? Is that how I - my arm?”

“Yes. Your arm was severed from your body and you were left to die until one of our scientists found you. He knew you, used to pass you on the street on his way home at night. He’d seen you fight off the other gutter rats. Your skill was remarkable, even then. He knew you were too valuable to lose so he brought you here. We saved you. We gave you a purpose.

Now we need you to fulfill that purpose. You need to go back to your training. Can he stand? Help him to stand we do not have time for any more of this. Unhook him.”

The men detach the wires from my arm and help me to stand. I thought I was all right, but felt myself leaning on them as I rose from the chair. Even as they were letting me go I felt the blood rush to my head. My vision blurred - everything was white. I couldn’t feel the ground beneath my feet. I fought so hard to stay upright - I didn’t want to let them down, but the next thing I knew I was falling.

That was it. That was all I remembered. The fucked up thing is, we were speaking Russian. I’m pretty sure that I spoke it a little during the war. Steve said that we all learned languages from each other - French, Russian, German, but in that room - I was fluent. At least I think I was. I wish I could say when that was; I hate feeling so lost in my own thoughts. I guess it was later, that it was I would have needed time to learn the language, wouldn’t I?

I suppose it is something - knowing now the lie that they told me. But maybe it is nothing. Who knows if that was the first time that they told me, or if it was the tenth time? I don’t even know if the lie was the same every time.

I tried to make sense of it all, but I couldn’t. I was angry and lost in my thoughts. When the nurse came to me, I was so startled - I nearly jumped. She had an envelope to me -something that Steve had sent over.

I was so grateful to have it - anything to occupy my mind for a few moments - any thing from him.

It was a short note. He explained how he was sorry that he couldn’t visit for what could be several days because he needs to meet with people in order to help secure my release. He was hopeful that he had found people who would help.

He sent me something else too. An envelope within the envelope. He said that it was something he’d wanted to show me for a while. He’d held off on telling me because he thought that it might be too much.

It was a copy of a letter that I had written to him during the war. He’d kept it with him when he enlisted. He said that it was something we used to laugh about together after we’d been reunited.

He’d kept that letter on him at all times during the war. He said in his note that he’d never told me that, but that he wanted me to know it now - he wanted me to know that they’d found it on him when they unthawed him. They say the paper’s survival was almost as miraculous as his.

Whether I read it or not, he wanted me to know how much the letter, and our friendship meant to him. If I felt up to reading it, it was in the envelope.

I ripped it open. I’m not afraid anymore - need to know now.

 

“Steve,

How are you? Thank you so much for everything that you sent me - I’ll scold you for that in a bit, but first - I’m fine! Don’t worry. Everything is okay. I’ve heard the rumors of TB outbreaks too but no one in my unit is sick and neither am I. We are stationed near Austria. Things are going really well. It is starting to get cold. But I wouldn’t worry about that - we’re doing so well in fact that we’ll have this war won in a few weeks and I’ll bet I’ll be home for Christmas! See, and you are worried about TB. It is going to take a lot more than TB and gunfire to take me down. You worry too much.

And you sent me too much! How on earth did you manage to afford all of that? Honestly Steve, chocolate? I hope you didn’t blow a months rent just to send me things. It means the world to me though. I’m keeping the drawing with the others that you’ve sent me - tucked safely inside my helmet. I’m smoking one of the cigarettes now - it is the best thing I have ever smoked. How did you get your hands on this brand Steve? Are you sure you are all right for money? I’m worried about you.

Speaking of which, that reminds me - Dugan showed me one of those Captain America comics that everyone has been reading back there. I hope you haven’t seen these. Steve, listen to me - he is a cartoon meant to get everyone all fired up about supporting the war enlisting. I don’t want you getting any more of your crazy ideas about enlisting again. It isn’t anything like it is in those comics you know. It is like nothing you could ever imagine. I’m fine though, it’s just getting cold.

It must be getting cold back there too. Listen, I when it does get cold - I want you to use my overcoat. Wear it over yours if you have to, but don’t let me find out that you haven’t been using it. No reason for it to go to waste. I have plenty of sweaters and things where I am. Steve, if things get to be too tight, promise me that you will take some of my things and sell them. I mean it. Don’t think twice about selling my things, do you hear me? It’ll be fine. I’ll come home loaded with money and we’ll buy all new things, you’ll see.

I should go; we leave at first light - which isn’t far off now. I don’t want you to worry. I might not be able to write you for a while where we are going. I’ll be fine, like I said - it’ll take a lot to take me down. We’ll win the war and be home before you know it.

 

-Bucky”

 

I have no memory of it. I don’t remember writing it, I have no idea what he’d drawn for me, and I have no memory of laughing with him over anything.

Still. I kept the copy. I was hoping that it would bring back more memories last night...

\--And did it?--

Not really. Nothing more than what I usually have to remember - just flashes. I keep recalling conversations that are completely out of context. A few spoken - vivid as hell but they mean nothing. I see images - a radio, a brick wall, Dugan showing off - lifting up a fallen tree, men in uniforms marching, Steve holding some small, metallic object in the palm of his hand - the sight of which fills me with rage, regret and guilt. The feeling is so intense, yet I can’t say why I felt it.

Nothing else was coming back to me after reading the letter - not until I was close to sleep. I did remember something - it was so real. I could have been there.

I’m standing alone - some winter night and all of the others are asleep. They are behind me, hidden back behind the tree line. We are somewhere in the mountains. I’m at the edge, it isn’t a sheer drop, but you wouldn’t want to venture any steps forward in this kind of darkness.

It is fucking dark. There is no moon and I can’t see much below me. The stars though, thousands of them. A sea of stars and it is so beautiful that it almost makes up for the unbearable fucking cold. The wind is a bitch too, especially beyond the trees with nothing to block the current of frozen air. I keep pulling my hair out of my eyes.

My fingers are stiff. Between the stiffness and the wind, it takes me seven matches just to get my cigarette lit. Seven matches, but I’ve lost count of how many cigarettes I’ve gone through now.

The others I know are asleep because it is quiet. When they dropped off I can’t say. Two of them would be on watch but the others must be sleeping of I would hear them. Dugan’s laugh could wake the dead. It is a wonder we aren’t ambushed at every step. What a mess we are. Still, I like the sound of their laugher most of the time. I just - I can’t always be around them. I sit with them, I drink with them, we laugh, we sing - we boast about the women we’ve had - argue over cards but - I’m never fully there.

Tonight was particularly bad. I can’t always hide the shaking in my hands, I cannot afford for them to see it. The worst thing in the world would be for Steve to see it. I like the sound of their laugher, but sometimes even that is like the sound of gunfire.

I still smell it. No one has fired a shot in hours, but the stench of gunpowder is so potent. Even up here, I can smell of over the scent of pine needles and cigarettes.

I can’t tell them about it, why I am afraid - why I won’t sleep. How can I?

I hear someone approaching behind me. My hand is on my gun an instant later.

“Buck.”

I casually move my hand away so that he does not see that I was alarmed enough to reach for the Colt. I don’t turn my head to look at him. I can’t have him see me, not just yet.

“You come to keep me warm Steve?”

I hear him take a few more steps towards me, In my panic I’m about to throw my cigarette over the edge when I catch myself. I always forget - I can smoke in front of him now. .

“You know, I was actually going to ask if you would do that for me.”

I laugh, but it is painful. “You don’t need me for that anymore.”

“You know that isn’t true.”

I don’t say anything at first. I take another drag just to stall for time, stare up at the stars and try to think of a way to change the subject.

“I’d offer you a cigarette, but you probably will still say no, seeing as you won’t barely even drink.”

He doesn’t. I don’t know why. I can’t stop, for all the good it does me... Even the hard stuff does little to take the edge off now. It makes me really mad.

“Bucky, come back to the camp. You have to sleep. We’ll be on watch tomorrow night.”

Can’t stall for time smoking since it has reached the end. I stamp it out under my foot, taking extra time to crush the thing into the frozen hard dirt. The gravel makes a satisfying sound but I still have to answer.

“In a minute.” Sleep. I’m afraid to fall asleep. He can never know this, but I am afraid - I’m terrified of falling asleep and waking up strapped to that table. I hate it. The only thing I hate more than the memory of the pain and terror that I felt as they shot me full of drugs and fried me with lasers is the fucking knowing that they did it to him. He can never know this. He cannot see me afraid. “I guess I’ll have to go back with you. I’m out of cigarettes.

 “Well then you’ll be happy to know - Jim says you were right about the transmission. He says he owes you another pack.”

That is it. That is all I remember. I don’t know what the transmission was. I don’t know if keeping each other warm was a code for something, or if we all huddled together for warmth. I suspect we did, I seem to recall being curled up in a trench with Dugan and Gabe before Steve came. I’m not sure why it was such a knee jerk reaction that I could not smoke in front of him. The worst part is - I can’t remember anyone named Jim.

\--But you are in fact remembering more. You are making progress. I don’t think this is the best time for you to leave. You are only just now beginning to take ownership of your past. But since it does seem like you will be leaving, I think it would be best for you to start keeping a journal. It will help you to have all of these memories in writing. I think that it will help you begin to put them together in a chronological order as well. Do you think that is something that you can do once you leave here?--

Yes. That actually would help a lot. Maybe Steve can send something over today since he won’t be able to come. Would it be okay if I called him?

\--Yes. I think we can arrange that.--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone - thank you for reading! I know this chapter was going to be Steve, but we both started writing and ended up switching the order. Jenn is nearly finished with her chapter though. We talked about it last night. Warning - there will be feels. I almost cried.
> 
> In other news, I'm happy to say that I have started work on an illustration which will be a a bit of a companion piece to this fic. It will be featured in a Steve/Bucky fanzine which many, many talented artists and illustrators are working on. I've seen many of the works in progress and I've just been blown away by what everyone is doing! I'll post more info if anyone is interest soon. I'm very honored to be a part of this project. I'm really happy with the piece that I am working on and I can't wait for everyone to see it all come together!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve talks about his past, his present and his future.

There are places I remember  
All my life though some have changed  
Some forever not for better  
Some have gone and some remain  
All these places have their moments  
With lovers and friends I still can recall  
Some are dead and some are living  
In my life I've loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers  
There is no one compares with you  
And these memories lose their meaning  
When I think of love as something new  
Though I know I'll never lose affection  
For people and things that went before  
I know I'll often stop and think about them  
In my life I love you more

Though I know I'll never lose affection  
For people and things that went before  
I know I'll often stop and think about them  
In my life I love you more

In my life I love you more 

 

“In My Life” -The Beatles

***

 

“You really sure about this, man?” Sam said as he held out a beer for me. It had become our tradition after countless nights meeting, or dragging me into bars. The alcohol had no affect on me but the gesture brought me comfort.

I took the beer. “I’m sure”

“Course you are,” he continued. “I know you have this thing about saving people, and I’ll admit that Barnes has been showing improvement, and that’s good and all. It’s also easy to rush into things because you’re both feeling like you’re back on solid ground now. And I know what it’s like to want that, to want to just feel normal so badly that it makes you ache, makes you overlook the warning signs.”

“You don’t understand…. He asked me to take him home, Sam. Bucky, he’s never asked me for anything before. He was the one who always got stuck with taking care of me, whenever I was sick or roughed up because I was too stubborn to back down from a fight. He looked after me for almost my entire life when never had to. He wasn’t obligated. We weren’t family, not really. But we became each other’s family. We were we had in this world. Something in him thought I was worth the trouble. That’s the sort of man James Buchannan really is. Never a thought for himself.”

I carefully held up an old letter, yellowing and torn at the ages. A sneeze might turn it to dust.

“Back in the war he—he wrote me this letter. I kept it with me all this time. It was found on me when I was… recovered from the ice. By some miracle it had survived too.”

I handed it over to Sam, carefully.

“It was when he was first sent off to the front lines. He thought I was still back home in Brooklyn. He was worried about me, about my having enough to live on through the next winter. He told me to sell his things. His coat. He loved that coat. It had belonged to his father, and he wanted me to sell it so I’d be able to eat.

“You don’t know how that felt. Especially since I couldn’t tell him about myself at the time. Classified information. He never knew that his worries were for nothing. I was healthy for the first time in my life. The USO provided me with food and money—I was earning so much money. And do you know what I planned on doing with it? I was going to buy a place. A house somewhere, so he’d have a real home waiting when he came back from the war. 

“Then I was, ah, promoted and I was fighting side by side with Bucky. They did something to him at that HYDRA camp. Zola and Schmidt. He never talked about it, but he was…different. Darker. He lost that swagger that said he was ready to take on the whole world. His smile wasn’t as bright. He drank more but it never seemed to help.

“His hands would shake. He tried to hide it from me but I saw. He was as stubborn as I ever was. Never admitted that anything was wrong. I wanted to help. He never asked me for anything. How can I refuse him now? Now that he finally needs me?”

“Steve.”

“What would you do? What would you do if it were Riley? If he was suddenly back and broken and asking you for help?”

“Riley wasn’t likely to punch my head clean off if he was having a nightmare, or if there’s still a trigger left inside of that Swiss cheese brain of his.”

“I’m going to take care of him.”

“Course you are. So, when do we start?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Like I spent all this time running after you and now you think that I’d just quit? Hell man, maybe he did hit you one too many times.”

“You… what are you saying, Sam? Bucky and I are moving to New York.”

“Right. We are all moving to New York. I’m saying that I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for this. So, when do we pack? Someone needs to get things organized. You old folk would probably just grab some toothbrushes and take off.”

He carefully folded the letter and handed it back to me. I tucked it back into the safety of my pocket.

“You don’t have to do this, Sam.”

He grinned at me in that way that made me feel like I was being an idiot again. “What can I say? Being Captain America’s partner definitely has its perks. Maybe I’m not ready to give up the title yet.”

I was becoming used to that determined look in this man’s eyes. “Just in this for the perks, hun?”

“Maybe it’s good to have a wingman of my own.” He nudged my arm. “You’re not the only one who’s tired of being alone, man.”

I smiled back. “I need to make a few calls.”

****

 

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me, Captain. I'm sure that this must be a—“

“Surprise? It certainly is. Although not a bad one. It is good to see you. You know about Fury, I gather?”

“Not at first, no. You all caused quite a commotion in DC. For a while there we were left fearing the worst. He's been on the move. Has he contacted you?”

“Not since he asked me to go to Europe. I had priorities here.”

“So I noticed in your request. Are you absolutely certain about this?”

“More than anything. Are you going to object?”

“I'm the very last person on earth who'd deny you anything. Especially something this important. Sergeant James Barnes meant, means as much to this country as Captain America.”

“But?”

“But... It's nothing personal, Cap.”

“No offense, but I've heard that before from someone I had considered as an ally, and it didn't end very well.”

“Yes, HYDRA agents deceived us all. You weren't the only one bitten by those snakes, but thankfully you were the one who discovered them and took them down. The country owes you and your team another debt of a lifetime.” 

“I'm still waiting for that penny to drop, sir.”

“We all have new responsibilities now, Cap. Whether we asked for them or they were dropped on us. I have to think more about the big picture. Try to avoid mistakes of the past.”

“And you consider my intentions as a mistake?”

“Actually, I consider not supporting you intentions as a mistake.”

“I... what?”

“Given a worst-case scenario, the only one capable of containing the Winter Soldier, should there be a situation, would be Captain America. I believe that there is no one better suited for this task than you.”

“So you ... are saying yes?”

“I'm saying that we are honored to stand beside you, Captain.” 

“I did not expect... Fury was not so...”

“Agreeable? He would make the same decision. He wouldn't have liked it, but he doesn't give up on friends either. So, do you have a plan that you’d care to share with me? We’re perfectly willing to give you your space, but we will still be around.”

“Heading back to Brooklyn. I still have the apartment SHIELD set up for me. I’m hoping that being back in the old neighborhood might have a calming effect. Might help bring back some memories. We'll be checking in at Avengers Tower first. There are some things I need to speak to Tony about.”

“And Mr. Wilson? I understand Fury offered to make him an Agent.” 

“He's made the decision to join us. He's got a sister in Long Island expecting her first child soon. Sam says he'd like to be closer to help them out.” 

“Not just them it appears.”

“Sam's an excellent man. And you? Any plans of your own? Or are they all classified?”

“You know us, Cap. We'll always be watching out for the little guy. We'll rebuild.”

“Glad to hear it. Couldn't fall into more capable hands. I’d like to help with that rebuilding. Peggy, Howard and Colonel Phillips would want it that way. You know where to find me, Age- I mean, Director Coulson.”

“It's an honor, Captain Rogers.”

“Please, call me Steve.”

“.....”

“And before I forget, these are for you.”

“....”

“You were right. They are hard to collect. But I made a few calls. I even signed them for you, if that’s all right.”

“....”

“Anyway, I'm getting a call from the clinic. I'd like to give Bucky the good news. Thank you again, sir!”

“............ thank you......steve…..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to read Datura_Snape's next chapter to learn more about Bucky's letter to Steve. I blame her for this chapter.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings. This chapter contains several mentions of war, violence and torture. I try to keep things from getting to graphic, but if you are easily upset reading such things - proceed with caution if you do.

“I'm gonna ask you to look away  
I love my hands but it hurts to pray  
Life I have isn't what I'd seen  
The sky's not blue and the field's not green

Wait for me, wait for me  
Wait for me, wait for me  
Wait for me, wait for me  
Wait for me, wait for me

Mmm, mmm  
Mmm, mmm

I'm gonna ask you to look away  
A broken life will never stay  
Tried too hard and I always lack  
Days are gray and the nights are black

Wait for me, wait for me  
Wait for me, wait for me  
Wait for me, wait for me  
Wait”

Moby - “Wait for Me”

 

“Happy Independence Day.”

Happy Independence Day... Maybe if I write it enough times I will understand it.

I sat staring at this notebook last night. I had no idea what to write. Steve sent it. I could think about that, but not what to write. And now all I can think is... 16 more hours.

Steve will come for me tomorrow afternoon, deal with whatever red tape and paper work he still needs to take care of after all that he has done already. After that we leave for Sam’s. I’m not sure why we are staying with him and not at Steve’s apartment...

The next morning - we all leave for New York. Sam leaves first - we stop off. Steve said something about someone we need to see before we leave. 

Happy Independence Day.

It’s like I’m standing outside of myself. I hear myself say it clear as day, and yet I have no fucking clue what it means.

I never remember what I want to remember. 

I didn’t really want to write in this thing at first - but now that I think about it - I wish I had been all along. They made it sound like writing would be a poor substitute for talking with a therapist. If I had been keeping track myself it would be easier to make sense of all the scattered thoughts and images that I have remembered. I could have been figuring things out - placing things in order. 

Fuck it. I’ll get this. I have to.

I have wanted nothing more than to leave, and now that I am only hours away from touching freedom - I’m worried sick. I hate to think that Steve has gone to so much trouble on my behalf - I hate it. He wants everything to be perfect. I know. That is how he is. And I know - it will be. What if I fail him? I’m so far from perfect, I’m so fucked up and all he wants is to have his friend back. I have to keep my shit straight after this. I can’t let him down. He believes in me. No one else thinks that I am ready to leave - he does. He believes in me - I can’t fuck this up.

I’ve been thinking that since this morning. And then I start to remember things - fucked up things... so much of the war.

I’m walking ahead of the others, other times I walk behind. I have to. They can’t see shit. I always see it before they do, and Steve is - no wait - he isn’t colorblind or near sided anymore. I keep forgetting.

Still I see better than all of them. I’m better trained to see because I am a marksman, or maybe I’m just more aware of things since I am always on edge and alert to every single threat. I keep telling myself this is the reason why I can see better all of a sudden. I keep telling myself that is why I keep my distance from them when we march. But I do have to. They are his men now, I need to step back. Sometimes I do it because I can’t bear to be around anyone. I’m terrified. My hands start to shake. I’m back on the table, they shoot me with lasers, inject me with God knows what. The pain is so bad that it stops me in my tracks - its like I’m falling - I almost do and that is when I remember that I am standing - walking. I’m not on the table, we’re on a mission, we’re in a pub, we’re in a meeting. Fuck Barnes get it together, Steve needs you.

Steve. Not Steve - not Steve. When I dream it is worse. It isn’t me on the table, but him, and he isn’t Captain America. I can’t take his screams - the thought of him in pain is excruciating - it hurts more than anything they ever did to me - ever. He is crying out for me, for his mother - then me again. It goes on and on - sometimes he even cries out for Sister Janet - but always again he goes back to “Bucky, Bucky please!”

I’m strapped to a table on the other side of the room. They are doing it to me too - it hurts so much and I curse myself for being weak. Get up, get up - get it together Barnes - I try to move I try to scream - I can’t. I try to scream -

I wake up in the freezing air - lying in the snow in some forest again. The scent of pine - the sound of Dugan snoring loudly - Steve - Steve is right beside me, sleeping. He has no idea. None. Dear God let it stay that way.

I lay awake - I can hear him breathing - I still can’t sleep. This goes on every night. I sleep for an hour or two every night. Three if I’m lucky. I don’t feel it at first - the exhaustion I always feel after so little sleep. I know the feeling well. Double shifts, night shifts - then the war... You feel fine when you first wake up, but after a few minutes it hits you. I feel hollow, weak - hung-over - I can’t think straight for the rest of the day.

I’m never tired. It will hit me soon. It is just the adrenaline. It will all hit me soon I keep telling myself. I can see an enemy from miles off. I can hear things that I shouldn’t. I’m good - I can hit my targets from a hell of a range but this - this isn’t me.

I keep my distance - I stay further away. I don’t want to think about it. I think about it just enough to stay away from him, from them - just in case.

It doesn’t last. We storm a building - shoulder-to-shoulder we blow through the door. They go down like dominos - one, then ten - then twenty. We push forward, stepping over the dead and further into the base. The explosions start. I can see it all before it happens. We’ve done this before, I’ve gotten used to it. We all know how the Hydra agents will try to stop us. We know, we anticipate, we react. It is like a dance, we know the steps, muscle memory takes over and we do not need to think. I think that is how it was for them. For me it is worse. Everything slows down - everything around me. The Nazis, the bombs, the debris that fall, the other Howling Commandos. Everything becomes quiet - as if I can tune out the sound of bombs, screams and gunfire and hear only what I need to hear. I can move fluidly in this suspended space and time - and I am not afraid. I am completely in control - always three steps ahead.

Three steps ahead - split up - divide and conquer. I clear another room with Falsworth and Steve. Three steps ahead - I hear the gravel shake free. I see the section of ceiling and the steel beam that held it up fall before they actually do. Three steps ahead wasn’t enough. Steve is on the other side - I can hear him - I can hear them both.

Four steps? I’m ahead of myself now - unaware of it until I throw it several feet.

No.

The impact is unmistakable. The beam shakes the ground as it falls a second time - after I picked it up and threw it.

No. No no no - NO.

Steve - I make it to him. He is fine. He is safe. He is safe and he hadn’t seen me. I run to him. Three steps behind. 

“Bucky, what’s wrong?”

Get it together Barnes - don’t let him see you unnerved. Not now. Of all times not now. He can’t know. I can’t know - I don’t want to know. Not this - no.

“I’m fine - I heard the beam - the beams fall and I came back to see if you were both okay. Nothing - the other end of this wing is clear. We should regroup.”

We leave. I stay three steps behind as they exit the room. Three steps behind, I turn to look back at the massive steel beam and then at my hands.

I don’t sleep at all that night.

 

I knew. I knew back then what they had done to me - I never told him. I never told anyone. How could I?

 

So that was my morning. I remembered that while I started up at the sky in the courtyard. I stayed out there as long as they would let me - out there where I could still breathe. The sun started to sink. The sky grew darker - they made me come inside. They brought me to my room. Left me in there. I sat beside the narrow window, trying to see out.

But there was no window. There was only a door in the room.

No - get it together Barnes - this isn’t real. This is the past - focus.

I feel it still. I just keep telling myself that it isn’t happening to me. It isn’t happening to me anymore. This is a memory - just try to remember. I need to see this - awful as it is. I need to see it. 

They’re torturing me. I’m not lying down - not held by leather straps as I was before. I’d break them now. Now I’m in a chair - metal clamps down on my arms - I can’t move them, not even my metal arm can tear me free. The current. God how it burns - blinding white - ice-cold heat. It soaks into me. It isn’t like any other injury - hits cuts - there is the initial pain, then the lingering aches afterwards. The shocks, the burns - they only hurt worse. I leave my body - I’m dying - I can hear myself scream but I’m not in the room anymore.

Stay awake. Stay awake - you have to stay awake...

I think I’m telling myself this - I think it is me. I don’t know my own voice anymore. I don’t know anything. All I know through the pain and the blindness it causes me is that there is something I need to do. I just don’t know what it is.

I have to stay awake. But I must have blacked out. They are screaming at me - smacking me in the face. Their commands for me to wake up are nothing like my commands to myself. My voice is so small compared to them. I am so small compared to them. I try to scream. They keep kicking me in the stomach. I can’t catch my breath. I can’t breathe at all - until the water hits me. Then I scream. Ice cold jets of water - I don’t even know where the torrents are coming from. It stops and someone is hitting me again - screaming in my face. I understand the language - I know the words but I still can’t make sense of them.

Two men drag me by my arms - they throw me into a room, but it isn’t a room. Concrete cell - too small for me to lie down. I can’t move from a fetal position anyway. I lay curled up on the floor for an eternity. I’m naked and soaked. I’m shivering - so cold. The cold hard concrete could be a slab of ice. It leaches whatever warmth remained in me. I don’t know anything. I’m scared. I have no idea where I am or how I got there. I don’t know who I am or where I came from. All I know is that I have to do something. This is my secret. It is all that I have and I won’t let them take it from me. I’ve buried it deep within me. I’ve hidden it so well that even I can’t find it. But it is there. It is all that I have.

The hunger wasn’t so bad at first. Something about it seemed familiar - as if I was supposed to feel this way. Was this a part of what I had to do? Maybe. I don’t know. 

So cold, everything hurts. It hurts to move. It hurts to breathe. I start to feel something worse than pain - this hollow dull ache in my chest - it radiates to my arms. It hurts so much to move but I reach out my right arm for something - it isn’t there and the pain only grows worse. I choke back a sob. I wish I knew what I wanted - what I was reaching for. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

I move enough to notice the way my metal arm has been digging into me. I had no idea I’d been laying on it. With great effort I get it out from under me. Too late. It had wounded my side hours earlier.

The hunger is starting to get to me. I’m dizzy, having trouble thinking straight. My breathing is shallow my heart races - and I am so afraid. Don’t move. Whatever you do - don’t move. It will kill me.

But it doesn’t. They open the door. A man commands me to stand. I struggle to my feet, but I do it. “Yes sir.”

He tells me, “This is it. This is the day. Today you must prove yourself. If you accomplish this test, we will act in accordance with Zola’s wish to turn you into the new face of Hydra. You will no longer be treated as a common criminal, as long as you prove yourself loyal.”

I don’t care anymore. I’ll do it, whatever it is I will do it. “Yes sir.” I only care about the one thing that I have to do. The one thing that I cannot remember...

“You must protect Hydra. That will be your role should you prove yourself capable.”

Protect. Hydra? I don’t know what that is but - maybe that is what I am supposed to do.... I feel as though I am meant to protect something, maybe Hydra - whatever it is - maybe that is what I can’t remember.

He and several armed guards leads me into a room. I’m somewhat aware of the fact that I have am I am some sort of feral animal. I’m not quite human. I don’t know why but I’m not, is that why I’m here? 

The doors close behind us. He explains that I am to kill six men who have betrayed Hydra. They must pay the ultimate price for their treachery he says. If I do this, he will reward me. He tells me that prominent members of Hydra’s inner circle have come to watch.

They clean most of the blood from me and I am given pants. I am not given a weapon to kill these men with. They don’t even give me shoes. 

I stand at the threshold of the door waiting - waiting for him to return. When he does he will introduce me to the inner circle. My heart begins to pound. I’m afraid of letting them down - I have to survive this. I have to do something - and maybe it is to protect Hydra - all the more reason to not let them down.

They bring me in. I stand before them, no one speaks. Finally one asks my name.

My name. Fuck. Fuck - I don’t know. Already I’m fucking this up. “Sir. I don’t know sir.”

I feel ashamed, but for some reason this seems to please them. I’m so confused. 

One of the guards turns to me and speaks, “Go out into the yard, you know what to do.”

I open the door. Concrete, a fifteen-foot chain link fence topped with barbed wire. The area is not that big, but there are ruined cars and a tank scattered about. The six men are hiding. I step out onto the ground. It is cold, winter - no birds, no insects - silence. The ground is full of gravel. I will hear them.

The first one begins to run towards me. He has a knife. That knife - I must have it. All of my thoughts are focused on the knife. If I can just get it from him - I will be armed. Twenty yards off - I run towards him. Once he gets a good look at me he stops in his tracks then turns to run. My toes dig into the ground as I sprint after him. I see nothing but the glint of the knife - until I see the rock in my peripheral vision. 

Without thinking or even turning my head, my left arm reaches out and catches it - only then do I turn and hurl it back at the man who threw it. This one. This is the one I must kill first. Fuck the knife - he runs and is no threat. This one.

The rock hit him and he dives behind a pile of rubble. It won’t save him - I grab him by the throat and crush his windpipe. He struggles against my grip but it is already too late, his eyes roll back into his head. I hold him up as the man with the knife rushes towards me again - screaming in a language I do not understand. I throw the dead man and him, knocking him back about ten feet. The knife flies from his hand.

It is mine before he can attempt to stand. He makes it to his knees but no further. I hear two more. They have knives as well. Both seem uncertain as to whether or not they want to fight me, but as I engage them - I see that they are both skilled with knives. I’m still three times faster. I wound one and kill the other.

The gunfire keeps me from finishing the second. Riffle - I turn and run towards the shooter. He stands on top of the busted tank. I dodge every shot, the climb the tank as if it were nothing more than a flight of stairs. He is in shock when I stand beside him. I grab the gun from him then kick him over the side. I fire two shots into him where he falls. 

Two more.

I quickly spot the one that I wounded hiding behind a car. No reason to be sloppy now. I shoot him once between the eyes. 

One more.

This one will not reveal himself. I jump from the tank and begin to search the yard, ripping the broken parts off of cars and kicking aside the rubble to find him. The grenade lands at my feet. Now I know. I pick it up and throw it back at him. It explodes in mid air. When the smoke clears, he lays dead on the ground from the gunshot.

When the smoke clears, I hear them begin to clap. A few cheer. I stand there confused and shaken. In the back of my mind I hear more cheering - but boys - not men are cheering for me. It is a fenced in yard not unlike this one, but there the boys on the ground have busted lips and bloody noses. Cuts and scrapes and not mortal wounds. A woman’s shrill voice screams above the children - “James!”

I nearly drop the gun in terror but I hold on. I cannot let them down. I have to do something - I have to do something.

My mission.

This is it. This is the day. Everything that we have been striving towards for decades- all of my work has lead us to this. Today we launch Project Insight. Today we give the world the freedom that it deserves.

My primary objective - protect and ensure the launch of Project Insight. Kill anyone who attempts to stop the mission in anyway. Above all else - eliminate the greatest threat to Hydra and Project Insight. Kill Captain Rogers, confirm his death and return.

This is it. This is the day. Once the helicarriers take to the sky and link with the satellites, Hydra will be able to neutralize any and all threats in a matter of seconds. Freedom. We will have done it.

Even still, I know what this means. I will become obsolete. There is an extraction plan, but it isn’t much. I know my place. I suppose they will keep me as some form of a fail safe. I don’t know how I feel about any of it or if I feel anything at all. I just know what I need to do.

I am deployed. They get in my way. I kill them. I take the jet and fly it op towards the helicarrier. I wait for them. They are cocky and do not see me until I have kicked one of them over the edge. He tries to fly but I pull him down and tear off his wing. I throw him over the edge again. He does not return.

One left.

He’s gone from my sight but I know where he will go. I block his way. He stops fifteen feet from where I stand.

“A lot of people are gonna die, Buck.”

There is a weakness in him. I hear it in his voice and see the pain and confusion in his eyes. It will be his undoing. He is weak, even the word he uses to insult me is weak.

He begs me, “Please don’t make me do this.”

I will show no mercy to him. Die. Three steps into the fight and I’ve shot him. I’ve only grazed him, but I am only getting started.

He tries to sabotage the mission - I snatch the drive from his hand. We fight until we fall. He is good, but I still have the upper hand. I slide down after him, taking the drive with me.

It all happens so fast. I’m failing. I don’t understand it. He breaks my arm - he holds me high above him then slams my body to the ground. He wraps his arm around my neck - no. No not this. I have to stay awake. I have to stay awake. I have to do something. Stay awake, Stay awake - you have to stay awake.

I have to stay awake, but when I come to he is gone. Fuck. I hear him scrambling up vessel. I reach for my gun - my arm burns - the break - fuck. I still manage to shoot him. I’d kill him outright but I am so angry. I’m picking at him now - piercing him with bullets slowly but surely - I will kill him, but I will make absolutely certain that it will hurt.

The explosions start. No - what happened? Did he succeed? I’ve failed. No - not yet. I aim for him again - but the impact. I hear myself scream before I can understand what happened. I’m trapped beneath a massive piece of the craft. I try to free myself but my arms are pinned down and I cannot move. I can feel the places where my ribs have been fractured. I can’t get out. I’m going to die.

I’m going to die and I’m afraid. I see him, and I don’t know why but I cling to the hope that he will free me. Please. I can no longer hold back - I can feel my eyes begging him for help.

After all I have done to take his life he raises the debris enough to for me to crawl out. Idiot. What kind of game is he playing? I’m going to kill him. I try again -

“Your name, is James Buchanan Barnes. You know me.”

I feel this terrible pain in my chest that has nothing to do with my broken ribs. I want to throw up - I don’t understand any of it. I want him to shut up. 

“Shut up - Shut up!” I don’t want to hear any of this - I have to do something

“I’m not going to fight you. You’re my friend.”

NO! “You’re my mission,” I punch him again and again. You’re my mission. I raise my arm to strike him again. I have to do something - I have to - I have to....

“Then finish it, cuz I’m with you ‘till the end of the line.”

His face - his face - he is falling away from me. I’m hanging on by one arm. He is falling. I have to do something. I have to do something. Independence. Liberty. Freedom. Fuck Hydra. I let go.

I have to save him.

I dive towards the place where he fell beneath the surface of the water. Liberation - into the flood again - I don’t understand any of it. All I know is that I have to save him. 

The water takes me - I drive myself down to where he is slowly sinking to the river bed. I begin to fear that I am too late. I grab him then kick hard for the surface. He was under too long - I’m gripped by fear. Only when I lay him down on the bank to I have the courage to check to see if he is alive. He coughs up water then begins gasping for air.

It is enough. I’ve done it. He is safe and I am free. I’m not going back - I’m free.

Happy Independence Day.

There - there it is. I saw it! I was there - for a second I was there...

 

“Happy Independence Day.”

“Very funny Buck.”

“It is funny. Its funny because it is fitting in so many more ways than one.”

“It is.”

“Come on, I’ve waited 452 days for this. Just our luck ’36 had to be a leap year.”

“I know, that extra day nearly killed me.”

“Have you said your goodbyes?”

“I have. Oh that reminds me, Sister Teresa wanted to see you to say hello to you.”

“Very funny Steve. That woman hated me almost as much as I hated her. Come on, stop struggling with that bag would you? It’s twice your size - give it to me. I’ve come to take you home.”

 

That is all I remember. We’re standing on concrete steps, me at the bottom of the stairs - him at the top smiling down at me. He holds onto a black metal railing. The sun shines, it was warm - summer. A door - there was an ornate wooden door behind him....

Church - no - the orphanage. “Independence Day.” “I’ve come to take you home.” Home? What was home. What did I mean? Goddamn it I still don’t even know what Independence Day means - “in so many more ways than one.” I’d settle for fucking one - but I guess that was the day he turned 18. When was his birthday? When was my birthday? Home. I was older. I got out first so... home? I wish to hell I knew what home was. That is all I ever wanted...I think I remember that. I know now that it is all I want...

Fuck I can’t think anymore. Tomorrow. I have to get it together for tomorrow. Steve will come for me tomorrow - to take me home. Then I know what home is. I just have to keep it together - for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! Sorry again for the time between updates. I've been working to get things done for NYCC and Halloween - both for AdventuresofBuckyBear and I and all of my orders!
> 
> Good news though - There is an illustration for this chapter! You can see it here on my Tumblr page with details: http://datura-riot.tumblr.com/post/95954706036/faith-and-liberation-by-carol-datura-riot
> 
> Tomorrow I leave for New York to spend a week with AdventuresofBuckyBear - my co-author - the Steve to my Bucky. We're going to try to write the next chapter together!


	24. Chapter 24

"And you know it's time to go  
Through the sleet and driving snow  
Across the fields of mourning  
Light in the distance

And you hunger for the time  
Time to heal, desire, time  
And your earth moves beneath  
Your own dream landscape

Oh, oh, oh...  
On borderland we run...

I'll be there  
I'll be there...  
Tonight  
A high road  
A high road out from here

The city walls are all pulled down  
The dust, a smoke screen all around  
See faces ploughed like fields that once  
Gave no resistance

And we live by the side of the road  
On the side of a hill   
As the valley explode  
Dislocated, suffocated  
The land grows weary of its own

Oh, oh, oh...on borderland we run...  
And still we run  
We run and don't look back  
I'll be there  
I'll be there  
Tonight  
Tonight

I'll be there tonight...I believe  
I'll be there...somehow  
I'll be there...tonight  
Tonight

The wind will crack in winter time  
This bomb-blast lightning waltz  
No spoken words, just a scream...

Tonight we'll build a bridge   
Across the sea and land  
See the sky, the burning rain  
She will die and live again  
Tonight

And your heart beats so slow  
Through the rain and fallen snow  
Across the fields of mourning  
Light's in the distance

Oh don't sorrow, no don't weep  
For tonight, at last  
I am coming home  
I am coming home"

 

U2 - “A Sort of Homecoming”

 

How much longer is this going to take.... I feel like I’ve been waiting here for days, this has been the longest three hours ever. It kills me to think he is here - so close. And I am so close to going home... 

Oh my God. I know he had to fill out paper work, but - what are they having him fill out his entire 95 year life story and mine as well? It’ll be dark by the time - 

“Sergeant Barnes? You’re all set to go. Captain Rogers is waiting for you in the lobby.”

.....That nurse might well have shot me full of adrenaline - or something slightly more pleasant. Holy shit - this is it. Stay calm - don’t let them see that you feel so elated. Don’t let them see that you feel like a child finally set free from school to run free for the summer - and what ever you do don’t let Steve see it. But I can see him now - and I can see in his eyes what I feel right now. Stop grinning like an idiot - both of us.

What do I do? I shouldn’t hug him. I’ll just stop a foot or so from him... “Hey.”

“Hey Buck. Happy Independence Day.”

“What?”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was an old joke I didn’t think you’d get it -”

“No I do - I mean - I think I do. I’m just no sure what it means. I remember saying it - did I say that to you when - because I came to get you from the orphanage?

"Yeah. Yeah you did. I was finally able to leave that place. I waited a whole year for you to show up and take me away from there. Take me to this new home that you'd been talking me up about. The place we'd both been dreaming about since we were little. It was my birthday. Fourth of July. So it really was my Independence Day. Get it?"  
   
“Fourth of July...  Yes!  I do remember!  I always used to tease you for that.   But... Home.  That I don't remember.  Was it nice?  I don't remember having a nice home ever.  We... we didn't have a house did we?  I have this terrible feeling we had some horribly small apartment. Was that how it was?”  
   
“Yeah, it was small and dark and the pipes banged and the walls were paper thin. It was home and I loved it because we were free and we were together. You were writing articles for this rag of a paper and I would draw for whatever place needed an artist. It was rough and it got rougher as the depression got worse. We both ended up taking some pretty lousy jobs when we could. Sometimes nothing came up for days and the soup lines ran out so we went hungry. But we stuck together and made ends meet.”  
   
“I'm sorry.  I wasn't able to put us up in a decent place. And here we are now and I...”  
   
“You still don't get it, do you, jerk? It could've been a sewer and I'd have been happy because it was ours and we were a family. We had to move around when the times were bad. Some of the places got better when we had a little more scratch. Sometimes they even had kitchens. I liked those. You would have to work long hours at the docks and I'd always feel better if I could have a hot meal waiting when you got home. I liked being able to cook for us. My mom taught me. Once of the few things I could do right back then.”  
   
“I'm sorry.  I wish I remembered that.  I’m sorry. I don't think that I know much about cooking, but - maybe sometimes I can cook for us?”  
   
“You remember how to cook? I'm not too keen on hospital food three times a day.”  
   
“Punk! I don't remember much, but I can learn.  So.... Can we leave?  We’re going to Sam's right?”  
   
"Here. Let me take that bag. Hop on and hold on tight. Next stop, the future."  
   
“Very funny.  Nice bike! When did you learn to ride one of these things?  Did you, did you learn before... When we were in the army or is this new?”  
   
“Actually, I first learned from you. You used to step out with this girl whose dad had this wreck of a chopper. Let you take it around sometimes. You used to pick me up and we'd ride round town. Even went as far as Coney Island once. Then during the war they gave me this Harley, real powerful beauty. Got us through some tough spots, the old gal did. Hydra finally blasted her to bits. Shame. I miss her. These new bikes are so small. Feels like riding on air.”  
   
“I wish I could remember.”  
   
“Heh. Wise men have told me that I spend too much time in the past. You feel ready to start making some new memories?”  
   
“Yes.  Now stop talking - I wanna see how fast this thing can go!”  
   
The sky opened up - the world was suddenly before me. I was free. He did ride that bike as fast as he could on civilian streets. Air rushed into my lungs and I held onto him. I held on, but not tight. I couldn’t - for so many reasons. I was so happy - so elated I would have wrapped my arms around him, but i wasn’t going to do that. Ever. I barely even held him - not with my left hand. I still hate to touch him with it. I don’t trust it. I don’t all together trust myself. The world was getting small again - the buildings were closing in and swallowing up the sky.

I can do this I told myself. I can.

“We’re almost there!” he turned and shouted to me over the the wind and the engine. I could see how his face lit up, and I could hear it in his excited shouts. I felt it. And I do like Sam. I tired my best not to think about it, the fact that my body is a lethal weapon and they are just going to have me over for dinner. I can do this. I begged to be set free. I cannot let him down - either of them.

 

“The key is the spice. You can’t be scared of being adventurous with your spices. Cajun food is not for the faint hearted. You boys ever try anything like that back in the caveman days?”  
   
“No, the only spice we had back then was too much salt and flavorless.”  
   
“That must have been great with all those dinosaur ribs you had the waitress bring out to you foot propelled car.”  
   
I like just sitting there, listening to the two of them bicker. Watching them dance around the piles of moving boxes, doing their best to cook with what little utensils remained unpacked. Sam going on and on about that stupid cartoon. “Steve, do you have any idea what this comedian is talking about?”  
   
“It’s a children’s cartoon called the Flintstones, Buck. Clint had me watch a few cartoon shows with him. Said it was retro. It was a look at what modern life in the stone-age would be like.”  
   
I’d seen it of course. Nothing much to do in a hospital but watch TV and listen to music. But I let them think that I was clueless, then sat back and watched them go at it again.

“So it was basically your teenage years.”  
   
“Very funny, Sam. But I preferred the Flintstones counterpart, the Jetsons. They were supposed to be from the future. Pretty wiz bang. Moving sidewalks and flying cars. So far this future is a bit of a disappointment compared to all that.”  
   
“What, your boy Stark doesn’t have a car that folds up into a suitcase?”  
   
“He might. He likes to show off.”  
   
“Hey Steve, can you go pick up some vinegar? I thought I had an extra bottle.”

Fuck. I could see it in his face too. Steve was hesitant - looked at me for silent approval. I gave it. Might as well. I had a feeling this was coming. I’d been waiting for it since I’d entered the apartment.  
   
“No problem, Sam. No fighting you two. I’ll be right back.”

We sat silently for a minute, it was already too long.”  
   
“....You wanted to get him out of the room because you had something to say. So, lets hear it. I understand you’re pretty good at motivational speeches.”  
   
“Man, I’m the best, so you best listen. Steve is my friend.”  
   
“And mine.”  
   
“And I’d hate to see him hurt.”  
   
“So would I.”  
   
“Then we agree. And I’m glad that you both have the chance to start over like this. I know that you say that you’re okay and he says that he’s okay, that it’s all okay, but you’ve both been so head strong to get things done I wonder if it really IS okay. Would either of you tell me even if it wasn’t? Steve wouldn’t. You know him. He’d cover for you and take it all upon himself and bury himself under a mountain of guilt out of fear of disappointing you. He was willing to let you beat him to death just to try and reach through to you.”  
   
“Do you honestly think that I don’t worry about that - all of that? All the time? I’m the one who has to live with the fact that I nearly killed him.”

“If you are that worried, why were you in such a hurry to leave?”

“Because it won’t change anything. It won’t change what was done to me. It won’t make me feel any better to be trapped in another institution with people controlling my every move. I want to go home. I just want to go home.”

“I know. I get that. Listen, you’ve improved a lot, but you have to be mindful of a log going forward. You’ve been through a lot. You know, I’ve seen vets who never experienced half of what you did lead normal lives for years and then one day a car backfires and all hell breaks loose. It is perfectly understandable, after all we’ve seen and done. It isn’t going to be easy. Some days will be fine. Other days might be terrible. Don’t be surprised if you take several steps backwards at first. Don’t be too hard on yourself - and don’t be too hard on Steve either.”

I won’t. I’ll do anything I can to make this work. This is all I want - I just want a home.”   
   
“And do you know were that is?”  
   
“Where Steve is. He was my home then, even if I can’t remember all the details. I just… feel that wherever he is that’s where my home is.”  
   
“Well then, you have to promise me. Promise that if things are starting to get bad for you, even if things are fine - anytime you think you need help - then you contact me no matter what. I know you old timers are stubborn as hell, but you call me. Or anyone. Don’t be too stubborn to ask for help.”  
   
“I won’t.”  
   
“You don’t have to do this alone, and neither does Steve.”  
   
“You know, you’ll never be as good at speeches as Steve is but-”

“Who is?”

“No one. You may not be as good as him, but I like you. Even if you cook weird food. You and Steve.”  
   
“No, no no - that shit you used to boil - all that cabbage and corn beef, now that is weird and disgusting.”  
   
“We used to eat that?”

“Yep” 

“Sounds pretty normal to me.”  
   
“Cute. Trust me, you’ll like this. You’ll like it better than the Thai food.”  
   
“You two arguing about food again?”

Like he didn’t know the reason Sam had him leave. Yes Steve, we were arguing over food. “Hey Sam, where are we sleeping anyway? You think there will be room on the floor - cuz there doesn’t seem to be enough space for someone with all the boxes.”

“Ok smart ass, there is room on the couch.”

Couch, I turned to look at it. “Oh yeah. That makes sense - I can just pull of the cushions. I can use the back ones and Steve can use the others. That would be enough room for both Steve and I.”

Sam just laughed, but Steve - the look in his eyes. I didn’t understand it, but whatever it was - it made me forgive Sam. It made me want to trust in him. I swore to myself that no matter what happened I would do as he said. I would reach out to him if I needed help. Anything to keep Steve as happy as he looked tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I am so profoundly sorry! It has been two months since our last update. That is the bad news. The GOOD news, is that while I was waiting for Adventures of Bucky Bear to finish this chapter - I finished FIVE more! So look for more updates very soon! 
> 
> Again I am so sorry. We were both very busy with NYCC and work. I was making our Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers World War II costumes. There is a photo here: http://instagram.com/p/uRtG44x1gu/
> 
> I also surprised her by being in Bucky's Enlistment uniform when she got me from the airport. She had no idea I'd gotten it. I gave her Skinny Steve's costume for her birthday - compete a garbage can shield! I surprised her by having us go to Flushing Meadows for a cosplay shoot of the World's Fair Scene! http://instagram.com/p/urHaUvR1vb/
> 
> So while there haven't been many updates, we got to live out a lot of Steve and Bucky's Story. There is a lot of inspiration for future chapters - which I promise this time are coming very very soon!!!


	25. Chapter 25

“When I was very young  
Nothing really mattered to me  
But making myself happy  
I was the only one  
Now that I am grown  
Everything's changed  
I'll never be the same  
Because of you

Nothing really matters  
Love is all we need  
Everything I give you  
All comes back to me

Looking at my life  
It's very clear to me  
I lived so selfishly  
I was the only one  
I realize  
That nobody wins  
Something is ending  
And something begins

Nothing takes the past away  
Like the future  
Nothing makes the darkness go  
Like the light  
You're shelter from the storm  
Give me comfort in your arms

Nothing really matters  
Love is all we need  
Everything I give you  
All comes back to me”

Madonna - “Nothing Really Matters”

 

Steve is asleep. Sam must be too. I feel so safe on a makeshift bed of couch cushions beside Steve in this mess of an apartment with Sam in the next room on what remains of his bed... Its funny. Everyone is about to leave this place and yet this feels more like a home to me than anything I have experienced or remembered.

We’re going home. A real home, and Sam is coming with us. He is going to move in with his sister, so that he will be there when her baby comes, but Steve is a big part of his decision to move to Brooklyn as well. He will be only a few subway stops and a short drive away. We’ll all be together. Steve, Sam, Me, Even his sister and the baby. I wonder what it will be... 

Sam can’t wait to be an uncle. The way his face lights up when he talks about her and the baby - it’s like Steve’s face when I suggested we sleep on the couch cushions. I still don’t see why that made him so happy. But I have to say, they are really comfortable, and though I don’t remember any beds, this is easily the best bed I’ve ever had...

I don’t want to sleep. I want to lay here and take in my bed and this room. All the boxes and the things written on them. “Kitchen-Laundry.” “DVDs and hats.” “Living room/cleaning/books.” Did Steve pack his place in such a random way?

Steve moved almost everything of his already while he waited for me. The rest is here. A moving company will come to take everything - then Sam will leave for New York. Steve and I will follow. But Steve says, there is one last thing we have to do before we leave for Brooklyn. What it is, he wouldn’t say, but I’m already nervous. Even the way he won’t tell me... what could it be?

What ever it is, I hope it is quick. I want to go home. But this place is home enough for me now. I’m going to stop writing now. Even if I can’t sleep, I just want to be here....

 

I don’t know how long Steve will be. I might as well write while I wait for him. 

We were all up at first light. We helped Sam with a few last minute things, then we all said goodbye and that we would see each other in New York. Steve’s car was parked outside. The bike would be put on the truck with everything else. Steve and I would drive the rest of the way - and where ever it was he was taking me. He didn’t tell me until we were in the car. And I could tell by the way he hesitated that it wasn’t going to be good.

“There is something that we have to do before we leave. Someone that I want you to see.”

“Who?”

“Peggy. It wouldn’t be right to leave without saying goodbye, and I think it might be good for both of you to see each other again. I know this might be hard, but - I think it is the right thing for everyone.”

“I still don’t remember her.” I really don’t. He mentions her from time to time - this woman he befriended who helped him to rescue me - who helped us on missions. I know there were women in the war. I don’t remember names or faces, or anyone in particular. Hell I barely even remember the stories Steve told me about this woman. I mostly tuned him out when he talked about things like that.   
He explains to me that she is old. Memory I don’t have. The ability to do math however... I get it. She’s really fucking old.

“She gets confused sometimes - has trouble remembering things and what year it is.”

“I think I can be sympathetic to that.”

“Yeah, well... yeah. She does remember you - when she is doing well. When she gets confused.... listen, if she does have an episode like that and you’d feel more comfortable waiting outside, that would be alright. I would understand - in fact maybe you should. Its going to be hard on all of us no matter what.”

We got to the nursing home. No one seemed to notice me as we walked through the halls. A few people looked at Steve, then looked at me - only to look away quickly. One or two glared at me suspiciously. They didn’t seem to want either of us there. I certainly didn’t want to be there. I wanted to go home. The last place I wanted to be was back in another hospital.

The last hospital was a prison, but here, everyone was sick and dying. The wisp of a woman lying in the bed was no exception. She was indistinguishable from her bed - white on white...

When she heard us come in though - her face lit up making her seem decades younger. When she spoke it was no different. “Steve, you’ve brought Bucky!” She looked right at me, right into my eyes as only Steve or Sam would. “How are you Sergeant Barnes? I’m so glad to see you.”

“I’m alright ma’am, how are you?”

“About as good as can be expected, but look at you two. Both of you young and healthy and together, finally. It’s like it was meant to be.” She was looking at me again. Smiling. There was something strange in her eyes - something almost devious - as if she knew more than she was letting on. What does she remember that I don’t?

She started laughing, then looked at Steve saying, “Now I’m really glad I kept those boxes!” I didn’t know if she was confused or it this was some inside joke between her and Steve. I suspect it was the latter. He laughed too.

She and Steve did most of the talking. They talked a bit about the war, but also about things that had happened recently. They’ve obviously been talking a lot. The get on so well - like they’ve known each other for years. Looking at each other and laughing. I sat on the side and watched them both. Images flashed through my mind. A green jeep. A large brick room with no windows - full of cigarette smoke and file cabinets. Maps - a damp smell - a piano in an even smokier pub. The smell of the city after a bombing - the sirens - the rubble. Laugher in a place where it shouldn’t be.

And there they were. Her hair isn’t white - her eyes aren’t pale. Dark. Dark brown hair and darker eyes - locked on him - and his eyes on her. Her superiority. Her looking down on me - no - not looking down on me - her looking at me like I was a wounded child. Was that it? Whatever it was - it was gnawing at me. Eating me while I sat there and watched them. I did not like this woman. I dislike her still and I have no reason to, no real reason....

Even as she began to fade - calling Steve by another name - I still disliked her. I saw his distress as he tried to explain. One minute she thought she was in grammar school - the next that he had just walked back to base after a crash - or after saving me. She began to cry. I hate her - and I hate myself for feeling that way.

I did leave - but it was more than seeing her - and him upset. It was - I just couldn’t be in that room anymore. I stood up to leave.

“It’s okay. You should go outside - I’ll be out soon.”

“No. Take your time - you two - take all the time you’ll need. I’ll just be outside.”

Just as well I’m out here. The way the look at each other - they way the speak so easily with one another - it was like I wasn’t there.

So now I am here. Alone. I don’t remember. I don’t need to - I just feel this profound hatred of that woman. 

What kind of horrible person am I? She is dying... She was nice to me - and she makes Steve smile. 

Maybe we fought once. Maybe she was a superior and I didn’t agree with her decisions. No. I think it was like this. Maybe they were partners and I was not part of it... 

I don’t want to think about it. I want to go home - we were supposed to go home. We are though. We are. I’ll have a home tonight. Whatever happened - it is over. We can visit her once every month or so as Steve was telling her. I can do that. I can become friends with this woman, even if I never remember. We’ll be alright. We visit her, so she will be my extended family. My immediate family - Steve and Sam - I’ll be with them tonight - I’ll be with them for the rest of my life. I am so lucky... maybe she is right - all of the horrors that have happened - they are over. What are the odds of it all - 70s years. 70 years I’ve been fighting, trying to keep some small part of myself awake - all of it for him. I survived. He survived - and now finally - we’re going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. We have started the next chapter - and I promise either Adventures of Bucky Bear or I will finish and have it posted before Thanksgiving. Good news - the chapter after that is already written - so that will be up soon as well. Several future chapters are already written so I'll be doing my best to get to them as quickly as I can!


	26. Chapter 26

“i took a drive today  
time to emancipate  
i guess it was the beatings made me wise  
but i'm not about to give thanks, or apologize  
i couldn't breathe, holdin' me down  
hand on my face, pushed to the ground  
enmity gauged, united by fear  
forced to endure what i could not forgive...

i seem to look away  
wounds in the mirror waved  
it wasn't my surface most defiled  
head at your feet, fool to your crown  
fist on my plate, swallowed it down  
enmity gauged, united by fear  
tried to endure what i could not forgive

saw things  
saw things  
saw things  
saw things  
clearer  
clearer  
once you, were in my...  
rearview mirror...  
i gather speed from you fucking with me  
once and for all i'm far away  
i hardly believe, finally the shades...are raised...”

Pearl Jam, “Rearviewmirror”

 

I’m still not sure if it was the right thing to do - having Bucky and Peggy meet like that. On my last day visiting her for a while, on the first full day he will be out of the hospital - the day we drive home.

We didn’t say much as we walked through the halls of the nursing home. Bucky seemed tense and I began to regret my decision, but as we got outside and neared the car, his mood lightened. He seemed almost to smile the moment he saw the car.

We both opened the doors, I got in but he hesitated. “I almost forgot - can you open the trunk? I need something. It’ll only take a minute.”

“Sure Buck, take your time. We have plenty.”

As I sat there waiting for him, I couldn’t help but to think back on the last time he and I drove from DC to New York. Him beside me, on edge and constantly fidgeting. He jumped at every sound - terrified that he might be attacked or that he was being watched. My terror, how on edge I was. The fear of losing him - trying to stay calm and not say the wrong thing... Even the weather could’t be different. That unseasonably cold, rainy night in late April. Now it is late July, the day couldn’t be more beautiful - there isn’t a cloud in the sky.

Bucky slid into the seat beside me with the brightest smile on his face. “Can I drive partway?”

“No.”

“Come on - I can-”

“First of all, you don’t have a license, second I’m a better driver.”

“That is such bullshit Rogers. Drive all you want but that just means I have radio control the whole way.”

He pulled the blue MP3 player that I’d gotten him from his pocked and brandished it in my face. I had to laugh. “That what you needed from the trunk?”

“Of course. How do you expect us to get all the way up to New York without music?”

With that he removed my phone from the charger and plugged in his MP3 player. I pulled out of the parking spot while he scrolled through it, presumably looking for a song.

“Thank you for coming with me. I know I’m going to come up to visit Peggy once a month and talk to her on the phone as much as I can, but couldn’t leave for New York without saying goodbye.”

“No it was fine....”

He kept scrolling, as if he couldn’t find the song he was looking for.

“How did you know her? Were you two - did you know each other before the war? How did you meet?”

“I told you, I thought I told you. Sorry. We met when I was training at For Leigh. She was with the Strategic Scientific Reserve. You don’t remember her at all? She was with us for most of the campaign - she wasn’t on the front lines but.... you don’t remember her at all?”

“Not really.” He seemed upset, but then he must have found the song he was looking for. The guitars kicked in and he began to smile.

Pearl Jam’s “Rearviewmirror” I knew it of course. He and I listed to vs. half a dozen times together and I played it on my own a lot. This was the song he had wanted to play... I didn’t know how I felt about that. But as it played through, I couldn’t help but to feel that it was fitting - not just for him, but for me as well.

“That reminds me - Tony sent me a Pearl Jam DVD of one of their tours from back in 2000. He was raving about how good it is. Maybe we can watch it tonight, I’ll make us dinner and then we can watch it, what do you think?”

“Thats awesome - what the set list?”

“I’m not sure, but Given to Fly is on it.”

“That is all I needed to know! I’m playing that next.”

“Great!”

That’s how it lasted for a few hours. The long stretch of road filled with Eddie Vedder, Trent Reznor, Kurt Cobain, Billy Corgan, Roger Waters. I’d heard most of their music. Tony had given me a basic education on the history of music since my time “As a Capsicle,” as he loved to put it. I didn’t like all of it. Sometimes it was too loud, too fast; at times it was more like screaming instead of melody. Sometimes it brought on bad images of dying soldiers from the trenches. Other times it left me feeling so lonely that I couldn’t catch my breath.  
   
Bucky took to it all like a duck to water. The louder it was, the better he liked it. The faster the drums, the more he strummed his fingers along in time with the beat. The metal ones made an odd pinging noise when they met with the dashboard.  
   
“Heh,” I said, lazily. “Sister Theresa would have given you a week’s worth of chores by now for doing that. She’d have called it ‘the devil’s music,’ and made you scrub the walls and then our ears for having dirtied them up by listening to it. She never liked it when you played those drums.”  
   
“It was a new week. It was time to switch…” he mumbled, his eyes far away and glinting, as if he was mad at whatever he was trying to focus on. “Ugly, fucking green-painted brick wall. It was supposed to be my turn.”

“What’s that, pal?” I kept my voice calm. Sam said this might happen. There was a syringe of sedatives in my coat pocket, just in case things got bad.  
   
“It was supposed to be my turn!” His voice was louder, but not angry. “She did it on purpose. It was supposed to be my turn at the drums and she let that meathead Murphy have an extra week even though the time was up - it was supposed to be my turn! I didn’t want to play the FUCKING BELLS! She knew - she did it on purpose - she always did!”  
   
He finally looked up and realized that I had pulled over to the side of the road. He reddened.  
   
“I’m Sorry I - it was a dream. Or was it? I could have sworn...”  
   
“It’s okay, Buck.”  
   
“Was it real?”  
   
“Was what real?” I knew the syringe was close. I was fast. I could do it, if I had to. Maybe… maybe I could calm him down before….  
   
“Did I used to want to play the drums? Was… was it in school, the orphanage? I feel… like everything was smaller. There were all of us, we all had turns on these worn, beat-up instruments, something about changing every week who had what...”  
   
I felt like I’d been doused with cold water. “I-I hadn’t thought about that in years. Yeah, yeah back in the orphanage we had music lessons once a week. Well, at least what Sister Theresa called lessons. Mostly it was just passing around these old instruments and letting us bang on them instead of punching each other. There was an out-of-tune piano, trumpets, cymbals….”  
   
“And drums,” he said eagerly. “Was there a set of drums?”  
   
“Yeah. You used to talk about them all week until it was time for the next lesson. It was in this tiny room in the basement of the orphanage. It was cramped - no windows, just brick walls.”  
   
“What color were they?”  
   
“The walls? They were green. Buck, what’s wrong?” He looked so odd at that moment. I’d never seen him look that way, not even that moment on the bridge when I had first called him “Bucky” and his programming had begun to crack.  
   
 “There was a green brick wall…” he said. “It was real?”  
   
“Yes, it was real. Hey, you know what? I’ve been driving for a while now. What do you say we find a spot and grab a bite to eat?”  
   
He nodded. I drove to the next rest stop. There were not many people there that time of day. I bought us a few burgers and shakes and we walked out to the benches in the park area. I lead us to one of the furthest tables, away from the rest of the travelers. It was for our privacy as much as for their safety.  
   
We sat down and ate our meal. Neither of us had much of an appetite. He wanted to talk, I could tell, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. As for me, I wanted to talk all too much. I knew if I started I’d prattle away and drive the man crazy before long. He had said that he didn’t want his past shoved down his throat. Memories pained him sometimes. The last thing he needed was it being forced upon him just because I wanted him to remember.  
   
Oh god- I wanted him to remember–  
   
“I wasn’t sure…” he started after a long while. “Wasn’t sure if…. Sometimes I think something was real, but then I wonder if it was just another implanted memory that they put into my head. I know I was told things about a past that wasn’t mine - fed me false information. They took my real memories and told me lies.. Again and again and again. Sometimes I’ll get an image or a feeling, but it’s broken and I have to wonder ‘is this real or is it another lie?”’  
   
His hand, the flesh and bone one, was on the table and shaking slightly. I moved to place my own hand over it, but stopped myself. No, he did not need my pain, my weakness.  
   
Bucky sighed. “When you started talking about that old nun and the drums, I got an image in my head about a green brick wall. That… that was real, wasn’t it, Steve?”  
   
“It was real, pal.”  
   
“It was real - my memory? It wasn’t another lie?”  
   
“I’d never lie to you, Buck.”  
   
“And I really played the drums? That was real too?”  
   
“It was real. You loved the drums.”  
   
“I did? Tell me more? Please, Steve? I want to remember it.”  
   
“Of course. Whatever you need.”

We got back in the car and I told him all that I could remember about music class. Not only the way he loved the drums, but also how good he was. He was a natural. The other boys just hit it - took out their aggression on it. He did too of course, but it was different. He could keep a steady beat - always so perfectly in time with the music - even when the rest of the class was off. It was more than skill, he would finesse the instrument when he played. He really did have a gift.

Sister Theresa saw this, and kept him from playing as much as she could. She had it in for most of us, but she really took it out on him. And he would take it. “As long as she lets you play the piano, I’ll deal with whatever she throws at me.”

And he did. My mother taught me to play. I never had time to learn much but, it meant the world to me. He knew that. I had so little. I’d lost my parents, I’d lost everything. I had so little to remember them by. They took most of my things and kept them in storage. I had nothing, I had only memories, and him.

“So, what happened? Did I ever learn to play outside of that place?”

“Well, no,” I explained. “They eventually stopped teaching us music. We were expected to learn other things. When we got older, a lot of us got jobs so that we could earn money, save up before we had to live on our own. You never had time.”

“Oh,” he sounded so disappointed. He began searching the MP3 player for another song.

“Is it - is it still something you would like to learn?”

“Yes!” everything about him changed. “Can I?”

“I don’t see why not. Once we’re settled in, I’ll buy a drum kit and I’ll find someone who can teach you. The neighbors won’t like us much but...”

“But how can you?”

“What do you mean?”

He held up his metal hand.

“Bucky, I will find someone. I promise.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?   
“You have to play the piano. Do you still remember what your mother taught you?

There are no words for the emotions that washed over me. “Buck, I hadn’t told you about my mother.”

“Yes you did.”

“Years ago I did. I didn’t mention her just now. You remembered. You remembered on your own.”

“I did? She taught you. You told me.... So - there. I remember. Now you have to play again.”

“I will.”

He finally stopped searching and chose a song. “Given to Fly.”

 

“He could've tuned in, tuned in  
But he tuned out  
A bad time, nothing could save him  
Alone in a corridor, waiting, locked out  
He got up outta there, ran for hundreds of miles  
He made it to the ocean, had a smoke in a tree  
The wind rose up, set him down on his knee

A wave came crashing like a fist to the jaw  
Delivered him wings, "Hey, look at me now"  
Arms wide open with the sea as his floor  
Oh, power, oh

He's.. flying  
Whole  
High.. wide, oh

He floated back down 'cause he wanted to share  
His key to the locks on the chains he saw everywhere  
But first he was stripped and then he was stabbed  
By faceless men, well, fuckers  
He still stands

And he still gives his love, he just gives it away  
The love he receives is the love that is saved  
And sometimes is seen a strange spot in the sky  
A human being that was given to fly

High.. flying  
Oh, oh  
High.. flying  
Oh, oh  
He's flying  
Oh, oh”

Pearl Jam, “Given to Fly”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'll have two new chapters within the next few days! Finally, the boys are on their way home!


	27. Chapter 27

“Home is where I want to be  
Pick me up and turn me round  
I feel numb - born with a weak heart  
Guess I must be having fun  
The less we say about it the better  
Make it up as we go along  
Feet on the ground  
Head in the sky  
It's ok I know nothing's wrong. . nothing  
   
Hi yo I got plenty of time  
Hi yo you got light in your eyes  
And you're standing here beside me  
I love the passing of time  
Never for money  
Always for love  
Cover up say goodnight . . . say goodnight  
   
Home - is where I want to be  
But I guess I'm already there  
I come home she lifted up her wings  
Guess that this must be the place  
I can't tell one from another  
Did I find you, or you find me?  
There was a time Before we were born  
If someone asks, this where I'll be . . . where I'll be  
   
Hi yo We drift in and out  
Hi yo sing into my mouth  
Out of all those kinds of people  
You got a face with a view  
I'm just an animal looking for a home  
Share the same space for a minute or two  
And you love me till my heart stops  
Love me till I'm dead  
Eyes that light up, eyes look through you  
Cover up the blank spots  
Hit me on the head Ah ooh”  
   
Talking Heads, "This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody)"  
   
   
I have something...  I have a past.  I have a past before the war, before the years of....  I was a little kid in an orphanage.  All those stupid stories Steve told me that once meant nothing - I remember something of it myself.  He never told me until I told him.  I remembered it on my own so it must be real.  
   
I wanted to play the drums.  I still want to.  I will get to learn now.  I’ll be home, in my own home learning how to play the drums.  I have something.  I have a future.  And Steve will be with me, relearning how to play the piano.  
   
Today was going to be the best day of my life.  I was looking ahead to this day for so long - so many weeks and when it finally came - we saw her.  It gnaws at me still.  I feel it closing in around my heart, turning my stomach to lead.  Why? Why today of all days when I was going to go home.  
   
But I am going home.  No one can take that from me.  He and I are going -   
   
“Steve, where are we going?”  
   
“Brooklyn.” He looks at me with concern.  Fuck.  
   
“I know that, you little shit.  Where, what part of Brooklyn?  What will our apartment be like?”  
   
“Oh!  Of course.  Well, it is in Prospect Park.  It isn’t we used to live - it is a different part. I wanted you to live someplace near a park.  Someplace with a lot of trees.  I got an apartment is on a tree lined street.  I made sure there were big windows and a terrace so you would be able to go outside and see the tress and get some air whenever you like.  I had another place when I first woke up - but I wanted us to have some place special.  I spent the past few weekends setting it up with furniture.  We can rearrange things, get a few new things once we’ve gotten there - but I wanted to make sure it was a proper home for you once we get there tonight.  But we - you can always change things.”  
   
“I’m sure it will be fine.  Anywhere - I don’t care I just want to go home.”  
   
“Well, we are.  I think you’ll like it.  You- you used to talk about it all the time.  How you wanted to live in a house somewhere in the country.  Some place with trees.  Do you remember?”  
   
“No.”  
   
“Well, you did.  You said that you, that you had a tree outside of the house where you grew up.  You talked about climbing it all the time.  Do you remember that?”  
   
“No.  Not at all.  I barely remember anything about the orphanage.  Just that one fragment of memory - just wanting to play drums and images of the place.  Nothing before that.”  
   
“So... you don’t remember anything of your life before that?  Nothing of the house or -”  
   
“No.  Nothing at all. It’s hard to think that I even had a life before an orphanage.  But I guess it would make sense - the tress.  I do like the idea of trees outside the apartment.”  
   
“Well, there will be.  And the park too.  We’ll be able to walk there.  I half wanted us to get a house, but I thought being in Brooklyn would help - for a while.  We can always move-”  
   
“Steve, it’s fine.  I’ve slept in cages, prison cells and worse.  I’m sure this apartment will be fine.  I’m sure the furniture is fine too....”  
   
“Sorry.”  
   
“Don’t be.  You slept in a plane wreck for seventy years.”  
   
“I guess I did.  Aren’t we a pair?”  
   
“We are.”  
   
“Well, the apartment should be a pleasant change for both of us then!  And I’m sure you’ll want to rearrange the furniture.  We always argued about it in our old apartments.  For now it is set up.”  
   
“How bad could it be? Did you let Stark decorate it?”  
   
“You haven’t seen Tony’s taste in decorating,” he laughed. “It’s awful! He’d probably put in Captain America bed sheets like he’s been threatening to do. Or worse, Iron Man bed sheets. Imagine coming home and seeing his face stamped on everything from the shower curtain to the guest plates. I did do some food shopping, by the way.  I’ll need to go out for a few new things but...”  
   
“But what?”  
   
“Would you want to come?”  
   
“Yes!  I do.  I want to!  You aren’t planning to keep me locked in the apartment are you!?  What the fuck!?”  
   
“No, it isn’t like that.  I want you to be able to go out to the stores with me. I want you to be able to walk to the park with me.”  
   
“Oh, so you think I won’t be able to handle it-”  
   
“No. I-I’m sure it will be hard for you, getting used to it.  It was for me, but I managed and so will you - I know you will.  There are just, things we need to talk about.”  
   
“What things?”  
   
“Things I should l have talked to you about... about us going out in public.”  
   
“Oh god.  Steve-”  
   
“Listen, things are just, difficult.  There is the media now, the news and-”  
   
“Steve, if this is about CNN and Fox News and all the people who say that I’m a mass murderer and that you’re harboring a terrorist - I don’t fucking care.  I’m sure people will spit on me in the streets, I’m not worried about that.”  
   
He just stared blankly at the road unable to speak.  
   
“What!  We had a TV in the Psycho Ward, Steve.”  
   
“You weren’t in a ‘Psycho Ward.”’  
   
“Oh no?  I’m sorry what would you call it?  You’re the one who brings up the media - what do you think they call it?  So what?  I’m supposed to go home with you, never watch TV read the papers, surf the web or go outside - is that it?”  
   
“No, I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”  
   
“For God sakes - I know.  I’m going to walk into the store with you.  I will cover my arm with long sleeves even in summer.  I will keep my hair hidden beneath a hood or a hat and never remove my left hand from my pocket.  You will do the same, save for your left arm.  People will stare.  Most won’t say anything - just glare.  Some hate us and call us terrorists and murderers.  We can’t hide from it.”  
   
“No, we can’t.”  
   
“Well, there you go. I’m going to the store with you.  I don’t trust you to pick out food by yourself.  You’ll come back with all weird, spicy things that I won’t like if I let you go alone.”  
   
“And yet you trust the way I arranged the furniture?”  
   
“No.  You’re right.  I will want to change it.”  
   
“You know.  You just admitted that I was right.”  
   
“Only because you will have done something wrong.  So there.”  
   
The GPS gave another order.  “He knows to merge, shut up.”  He laughs when I yell at the GPS every time.  It stopped being funny the second time.  Three more hours.   
   
Three more hours pass with us fighting, making fun of one another, and arguing over music and a lot of Smashing Pumpkins.  “Soma” plays, the sun begins to sink in the sky.  The New Jersey Turnpike stretches on forever - walled in on all sides and nothing to see be the concrete walls, cars, the sky, the GPS , and him.  
Finally free of the walls - the city rises before us.  The buildings stretch up toward the sky.  Some have already been lit though the sun is still far from setting and the sky is still blue...  
   
“It looks just like it does on TV.”  
   
“Yeah.  It doesn’t look the way it did when we lived here.  Not at all.”  
   
“I wouldn’t know.”    
   
“Mayonaise” plays, then “Spaceboy.”  Neither of us speaks.  We drive through a tunnel.  “Silverfuck.”  
   
The city is loud - driving is here difficult, I can see that now.  Still, I could have managed.  I do feel some apprehension.  I shut it out. I focus on “Luna.”   
   
It takes forever - getting through the city.  We’ve heard all of “Pisces Iscariot” and are a few songs into “Mellon Collie” by the time we finally Brooklyn.  It is nearly dark.  
   
“This doesn’t look familiar either, Steve.  Did the place we used to live look like this?  Did the orphanage?”  
   
“Nope.  Brooklyn is very different.  Coney Island is still here.  I thought maybe we could go.”  
   
“Yeah sure.”  Fucking Coney Island again - I can’t think about that now.  I’m almost home.  I watch time remaining on the GPS and my heart begins to race.  I’ll be home in just a few minutes. “Galapagos” plays - just a few minutes - these streets - they are mine.  My streets.  This neighborhood will be my home.  I’m already home!  There are trees!  People are out on a summer night walking dogs, talking on phones, and riding bikes.  A girl holds her boyfriend’s hand and kisses him as they wait to cross the street.  All the stores have their doors open.  So warm and so inviting - all of it. This is my home.  
   
“Muzzle” is playing, I’m staring at a store with a blue awning, in front of the store are bright green apples, other colorful produce and flowers in bins - I’m lost in it when I finally notice that Steve is parking the car.  
   
   
“We’re here.”  
   
“We are?”  
   
He points across the street to a three story red brick building with four trees planted in front of it.  “There it is.  We’re on the third floor”  
   
“It’s small!!  It’s not a huge tower like Stark’s!  The terrace is at the same level as the trees!”  
   
“I thought you would like it that way.”    
   
“I do.”  
   
*********

Bucky is smiling, and it was like I was seeing him for the first time in over seventy years.  This wasn’t the soldier whose mask I tore off staring blankly at me.  This wasn’t a flash of the man he once was bleeding through in the things that he said during his stay at the hospital.  This wasn’t even the Bucky who fought beside me in the war - but Bucky - my Bucky.  This was the Bucky that I grew up with, the one who took care of me, the one who said good-bye to me that night at the world’s fair.  He is here - my friend, sitting beside me in the car as if none of it had ever happened.  
   
“Do you want to go upstairs and see it?” I asked.  
   
“Yes!”    
   
“Just grab a few things. We can unpack the rest of it later.”  
   
“Perfect!”  
   
He practically ran across the street - just like he did when he ran all over the schoolyard.  He never walked anywhere.  Finally - finally everything was back to normal - I was trying to keep up with him.  
   
He got to the door, stopped, turned and waited for me - just as he always did.  He flashed me the same wicked grin as he reached for the door.  He held it open - his arm above me for me to duck under.  I couldn’t breathe.  
   
“After you, Stevie,” he said.  
   
Is this real?  This has to be a dream.  “Buck...”    
   
“What?”  
   
 _You haven’t called me Stevie since before you enlisted...._   But I don’t say it.  Why ruin it?  It’s real this time.  I’ve dreamed about this every night for over two years and likely did all the decades while I was frozen.  This is not a dream - this is real.  “Race you to the elevator!”  
   
“Oh no you don’t!!”  
   
He cuts me off and beats me- but always waits – he always waits for me.  
   
 _He stops and turns at the top of the landing.  “Sorry about all the stairs.”  
   
“What are you sorry about?  You’re the one carrying everything. Are you sure you won’t let me take something?”  
   
“Steve, I’ve got it!  How many times am I going to have to tell you?”  
   
“You’ve been carrying everything since you picked me up at the orphanage!”  
   
“Oh stop, I put it down when we were on the train. Now come on, it’s just one more flight.”_  
   
“Fine.  You win this one - double or nothing I’m beating you once we get off the elevator.”  
   
“No you won’t!  What floor is it, punk?”  
   
It's real.  “Third floor.”  
   
My heart sinks a little as he reaches for the buttons with his left hand.  I hear the sound of it recalibrating - see the light glinting off of his metallic fingers and I am forced back to reality.  Seventy years of torment and blood and -  
   
“I see you!”  
   
“See what?”  
   
“I see positioning yourself at the door, you little shit!  Don’t even think about it.  That’s two unfair advantages.”  
   
“Two?  What’s the other?”  
   
“You know where it is, I don’t.”  
   
“Turn right.”  
   
 _“Right?”  
   
“Yeah, it’s a right as soon as we hit the next landing.”  
   
“Got it...”  
   
“Just a little further - two more doors.”  
   
“This one, Buck?”  
   
“Yes.  Five Eleven - you think you can remember that punk?”  
   
“Of course.”  
   
“You have the key?”  
   
“Yeah, you gave it to me on the train, remember?”  
   
“Good, then open the door.”  
   
“Don’t you want to do the honors?”  
   
“It’s you’re home too, Stevie. Do it!”_  
   
“Open it. You still have the key?”  
   
“No, Steve. I lost it already.  I’ve had it in my pocket since you gave it to me in the car.  I can’t believe you think I lost our key.”  
   
“Your key.”  
   
“My key?”  
   
“Yes. That’s yours.  It’s your home as much as it is mine - of course you have your own key. Now open the door you jerk!”  
   
 _“Oh my god, this place is huge!”  
   
“Steve, it’s barely more than two rooms.”  
   
“Look at the window!”  
   
“It isn’t much.  It’s still dirty. No matter how many times I’ve tried to clean it its still dirty!”  
   
“There aren’t bars on the window!”  
   
“No.  No more horrible orphanage windows.  We are finally free of that fucking prison!  Come on, I’ll show you our room.”_  
   
“Holy shit, this place is huge!  Look at these fucking windows!  They take up the entire wall!  God, the one in the hospital was barely a slit and it had bars on it. That’s not even a window - it’s a huge fucking glass door!  Can I go out!?”  
   
“Of course you can - don’t you want to see your room first?”    
   
“My room!?  Does my room have a window?!”  
   
“What do you think?”  
   
“Oh god - wait - where is it!?  There are so many doors! What’s this one?”  
   
“That’s your bathroom.”  
   
“My bathroom?  I have my own - Oh my fucking God!  Look at this bathtub - holy shit, Steve! What’s this room?”  
   
“That’s just the linen closet.”  
   
“Linen?  You have a whole fucking closet - just for linen?”  
   
“We do.  Yes.”  
   
“What’s this door?”  
   
“That’s your room.”  
   
 _“Your bed is on the left.  I figured it’d be better for you to be away from the windows once the winter comes. I’m sorry we still have to share but -”  
   
“Buck - my drawings!  You hung my drawings everywhere!”  
   
“Of course I did - it was the first thing I did when I got here!”  
   
“You didn’t have them up in the old place...”  
   
“Well, that was just a boarding house - this is different.  This is ours.  Hey, that reminds me - come back to the other room.  Look - I placed our table next to the window.  This way you can have more light when you draw.  That’s why the lamp is there too.  You can draw late into the night!”  
   
“Buck, you’ve done too much.”  
   
“Steve, it’s nothing.  I wanted us to have a house in the country.  I wanted to give you a place with grass and trees - get you away from all this smoke.  It would be so much better for your lungs if we had a house and -”  
   
“Buck stop.  This is perfect!  It’s ours.  I don’t need anything else. I know how hard you’ve been working to get us this place.  Six or seven days a week - two shifts most days - you barely sleep!  You’ve done too much...”_  
   
“There are so many windows!  Is this a TV?!  I have a TV in my room!?”  
   
“Yes.  It's nothing really.”  
   
It is nothing.  He nearly killed himself to keep us in that cramped run down space, and here we are now - a huge apartment in an affluent neighborhood - and what did I do to earn this?  Because Captain America had fought in the war?  I didn’t do anything.  Those men who fought and died were the heroes.  The other Howling Commandos were the heroes - and no one more than Bucky.  He did everything.  I survived because of him - because he insisted on being my decoy.  
   
 _“I was fucking kidding about you keeping the costume!  You aren’t wearing that – Jesus, Steve - you’ll be a sitting duck!  Your shied has an actual fucking target painted on it!  Senator Brandt can’t make you wear that.”  
   
“Everyone thinks it will be good for moral.”  
   
“We don’t!  The rest of us all agree that if you’re going to wear bright colors that we have to as well.  It’ll be like Manfred von Richthofen and the Flying Circus.  We are going to be in this together, we’re a team. If we really are going to do the Howling Commandos thing - we aren’t going to let you be the only obvious target.”  
   
“Well, the army wants them in brown, so I don’t think that will happen.”  
   
“The hell it won’t.  I’m wearing bright blue and no one will stop me.  Besides, its my favorite color. Just try and stop me. We're in this together.”_  
   
“So, was blue an okay color for the bedspread?”  
   
“Yeah, its really nice!  There is a lot of blue in this room - I like it.”  
   
“It was your favorite...”  
   
“Was it?  I guess it still is....  Hey, where’s your room!?”  
   
He continued to run around the apartment like a kid on Christmas morning - opening all the cabinets, looking through everything in my room, turning on all the lights and always asking questions.  He had been so silent for so long I can’t get over it - how much I’ve missed the sound of his voice.  His voice - the voice of the Bucky I grew up with.  
   
“Steve, what are all these pillows!?  These couches are huge - and even still there is nowhere to sit with all these pillows!!”  
   
Three came whizzing past my head.  “Yeah, tell me again how you were going to be okay with the furniture.  Tell me again that I was right.”  
   
“Because you were totally wrong to put up all these fucking pillows!!”  
   
“Come on, let’s go to the store.  I still need chicken, vegetables, milk and eggs if I’m going to make us dinner.  We’ll go shopping for real tomorrow - get you more clothes and things.  We can go grocery shopping again too, but for now lets just get the essentials.”  
   
We walked the two blocks to the store without incident.  Bucky was still practically running at every step.  His right hand reached out to touch just about everything as we walked, while his left he kept hidden in his pocket.  His fingers traced the walls, the trees and the bushes.  Once we were in the store he stared at everything wish such fascination.  He seemed so happy, but I was beginning to worry that someone might notice him acting odd.  
   
No one did.  The girl behind the counter even smiled at him.  He flashed his eyes at her - the way that only he can.  He could always charm just about anyone.  So he hasn’t lost it.  She couldn’t take her eyes off him after that - even when I handed her my credit card and he’d turn to stare at a dog. I felt an old twinge in the pit of my stomach, but shook it off. I was too happy.  
   
We started to head back and he insisted on carrying everything.  
   
“What?” Bucky said.  “I can take it all in my right hand!”  
   
“Just take this bag then.”  
   
“Hey, Steve, did we ever have a pet?”  
   
“Nope. We could never afford one and I was allergic anyway.  Would you like to get a dog or a cat now?”  
   
“I don’t know.”  
   
“Well, we can think about it.”  
   
“That’s a big dog over there.”  
   
“Where?”  
   
“Fooled you!  Three nothing, Steve - Three nothing!!!”  
   
He was running - That pain in the ass was running.  “You just had to trick me didn’t you? You know you wouldn’t have a chance otherwise. You can’t take it that we’re evenly matched now can you!?”  
   
“What?”  He looked so confused by the time I’d caught up to him at the door.      
   
“You were always faster than me.”  
   
“Oh.  Right.”  
   
“Anyway - you can’t do that - you can’t just go calling attention to us like that, not in public.”  
   
I wanted to be mad at him.  But he kept grinning at me, looking up at me with is devious downcast eyes - flashing them at me the way that only he can.  
   
“Fine.  Just this once.  Come on - I’m starving let’s go upstairs and make dinner - and now we’re not racing.  You win okay?  You were right.”  
   
“I know.”  
   
“Do you need help cooking?”  
   
“No.  Why, you don’t trust me?”  
   
“Of course not.  What are you making?”  
   
“Just chicken, vegetables and rice.  I figured you’d like that.”  
   
“Oh.  Yeah.”   With that he dropped the bag on the counter and went into the living room.  “So where is the Pearl Jam DVD?  I’ll set it up while you cook.”  
   
“It’s in my bag on the table.  Do you know how to use the DVD player?”  
   
“Shut up, Steve.”  
   
A minute later I heard “Even Flow.”  He figured out how to use that DVD player faster than I did.  I should have known.    
   
“I got it!  I’ll pause it till you’re ready.”  
   
“Do what you want, but get your boots off the couch.”  
   
“Make me.”  
   
How could I?  He was curled up in a fetal position on the couch.  He looked just like the boy who slept in the bed beside me in the orphanage.  
   
“I thought I’d make chicken tonight.  Tomorrow we can do steak on the grill.”  
   
“Okay...”  
   
“You can pick out whatever you want when we go to the store.  There is another super market that I used to go to when I lived in my old apartment.  Well, I mean it isn’t the same one.  It’s a chain so its the same store, but not.”  
   
“Uh - huh.”  
   
“We can go there after we go get you clothes.  I wanted to have more things for you but I figured it would be better for you to pick out your own.  There are a few places in the city I wanted to take you to as well.  We still have a lot of decorating to do, so I thought we could go to a few furniture stores and some lighting places.  Things like that.  What do you think?”  
   
He didn’t answer.  
   
“Buck?”  
   
No answer.  I felt like I was falling. I panicked and ran from the kitchen.  
   
“Bucky!?”  
   
Curled up on the couch fast asleep.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so peaceful - not since the night we first slept together in our first apartment.  I turned to look at him.  He was curled up in his bed on his left side, just as he is now.  
   
How could I wake him?  He probably hasn’t slept like this in years.  Dinner could wait.  I put what had been cooking into bins and left it in the refrigerator.  I made two sandwiches instead.  One for me, and one for him when he woke up.  
   
I went back into the living room.  He was still sleeping.  I picked up one of the blue blankets he’d thrown at me earlier and covered him with it. Then sat beside him on one of the chairs.  I thought about trying to sleep, but I knew it wasn’t going to happen.  I stayed awake - just as I had that first night in our apartment, staring at him in the bed beside me.  Nothing has changed; we were just on couches tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm sure you've all guessed that I love music and that the songs I pick mean a lot to me. This one is no different and I just had to share the video as well. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JccW-mLdNe0 I'm partial to the live version of it, and seeing David Byrne perform it is a must!
> 
>  
> 
> In the meantime, this story just keeps getting longer! I've started a new one - I am hoping to have it up before I have to leave for Christmas. I'm really looking forward to Christmas since I'll be getting to spend it with my coauthor and my best friend! It will be a very Stucky Christmas and Naive Melody for real! And a lot more plans for the story!


	28. Chapter 28

“Through the warmthest  
Cord of care  
Your love was sent to me  
I'm not sure  
What to do with it  
Or where to put it  
I'm so close to tears  
And so close to  
Simply calling you up  
And simply suggesting

We go to the hidden place  
That we go to the hidden place  
We go to the hidden place  
We go to a hidden place

Now I have been slightly shy  
And I can smell a pinch of hope  
To almost have allowed once fingers  
To stroke  
The fingers I was given to touch with  
But careful, careful  
There lies my passion, hidden  
There lies my love  
I'll hide it under a blanket  
Lull it to sleep

I'll keep it in a hidden place  
I'll keep it in a hidden place  
Keep it in a hidden place  
Keep it in a hidden place

He's the beautifullest  
Fragilest Still strong  
Dark and divine  
And the littleness of his movements  
Hides himself  
He invents a charm  
That makes him invisible  
Hides in the air  
Can I hide there too?  
Hide in the air of him  
Seek solace  
Sanctuary

In that hidden place  
In a hidden place  
In a hidden place  
We'll stay in a hidden place  
Ooohh in a hidden place  
We'll live in a hidden place  
We'll be in a hidden place  
In a hidden place”  
Björk, “Hidden Place”

 

I’m running as fast as I can. My heart is racing and I’m out of breath. Steve - where is Steve!? The tree!! Yes - the tree - if we can just get to the tree - Steve! I’m faster than he is, why am always I faster than him? I run back and grab his arm with my free hand. He still clutches the fabric bundle in both of his hands.

Footsteps - shit! I dive behind the tree and drop everything where it won’t be seen. I grab Steve and pull him into me - covering him with my entire body in case the tree isn’t enough. Steve gasps. _“Steve, shut up.”_ See me - see me, don’t see him. Just see me.

My heart beats harder as the footsteps draw closer - terror - but exhilaration as well. I’m grinning from ear to ear, because somehow I already know we won’t get caught. I’m trying so hard not to laugh as I see the feet of the woman. She walks past the tree. Walks! She isn’t looking for us! We’re going to make it!!!

“Come on Stevie, we can make it!” I say when I’m sure she has gone. But when I look at him his face is flushed and he looks as though he has seen a ghost. “What’s wrong with you!?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” He’s struggling to catch his breath still. I don’t hesitate - I throw him over my shoulder then stop to pick up the food I’d thrown in the corner.

“Bucky stop,” he whispers frantically. “Put me down!”

“Shut up!” I whisper back as I begin to run as fast as I can while carrying him.

I make it to the door and put him down. “Keep a look out.”

My hands still shake as I fumble at the lock with the pins. “You want me to do it?”

“You’re shaking worse, now keep quiet, would ya?”

I finally get the door open. I wait for him to walk into the closet before I slink in behind him. I lock the door behind us and as soon as I do we both begin to laugh uncontrollably as quietly as we can - which only makes it funnier! Neither of us can breathe - I have to stop - his asthma”

“Are you okay?”

He is still smiling and laughing - he’ll be okay this time. 

“You think we’ll get caught?”

“Naw, they’ll never notice. Besides, they think so little of both of us - they’d never expect us to be able to pick locks.”

“True.” We’re both still giddy.

“Look Steve I say as I place my bundle of fabric on the floor - look!” I open it, “Oranges! Oranges and raisin bread! I got us a few pieces of Turkey too!!”

He only smiles as he opens his bundle, “I did okay I think.”

“Cookies! Chocolate too!? Steve!!!!”

“Sshhhhh! They broke on the way over...”

“Who cares!? They’re still going to taste good!!” I can’t help it, I reach over and hug him - he hugs me back and we both start to laugh.

“I’m sorry Buck,” he says as he lets go.

“Why?”

“This is all my fault. You don’t even have to be here - I’m so sorry I made us spend Christmas locked in a closet.”

“What are you talking about? This is the best Christmas ever! We have more food than we’d normally have and we don’t have anyone here to bother us!” I wish I could see his face. I can barely make out the food as it is.

I take his hand and place one of the oranges in it. 

I can still feel his hand when I wake up. I’m so confused and so sad. I miss him. I feel the pang of loss that I never fully understand, the terror and the confusion that I always feel when I wake up. Where am I? The dream is slipping away, the life I once had just and endless sea of time, years of emptiness and confusion. Where am I?

I don’t know this place. I’m so confused, but there is something else too. Something unfamiliar. I don’t understand it, but it feels good - what is it? Sunlight. The sun on my body, something else too. Where am I? What was it I was wanting a few moments ago? I lost something and I - Where am I? I don’t know this place.

Wait - I do. I _do_ know this place. I’ve just never seen it in daylight. I - “Steve!?”

“Hey!” I hear him! He is in another room but he is here, he - “Bucky? You finally awake?”

Why am I on the - “Steve, did I fall asleep out here?”

“You did!” He walks into the room wearing a white t-shirt and jeans - not what he had on when I last saw him. “You slept through dinner, and breakfast. I didn’t want to wake you. I made you a sandwich if you’re hungry - or - I can make you anything really.”

“Why did I...” I’m suddenly mad at myself for falling asleep on the couch like that, but as I run my good hand over the plush fabric and the blankets I realize I’ve never been so comfortable. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. Did I have this blanket on me when I fell asleep?”

I pull it off me with my dead hand - nothing. No soft blanket between my fingers, only the sense that something is in my hand. “Yeah, you must have.” Steve is saying. 

No I didn’t. “Did you sleep?”

“Oh yeah, I was exhausted. I fell asleep right after you did.”

“Bullshit.” I sit up and take in the room in daylight. It is so bright. The trees outside are so green....

“I was about to make lunch but I can make you breakfast if you like I can always eat breakfast again. Do you want eggs?”

“Eggs?” I have to think about this. Everything is so confusing. I always feel lost when I first wake up, but this is worse. I’m not used to waking up like this at all. I feel something I am not at all used to feeling. I look at Steve he is still waiting for my answer.

“Yeah. Eggs.” 

“Eggs it is.” He smiles and walks into the kitchen.

I’m still lost. I hear him taking out pots. His presence. He is here. Is that it? Decades of waking up, wondering where I am, the dull ache inside of me that I don’t understand grasping for something with out even knowing what it is - only when I called to him now he answered...

No wonder I’m a mess. Even still I feel like I’ve lost something, like I just had something in my hand and.... No he is here. In the kitchen. I should go in the kitchen. Fuck this is confusing as hell, why did I think leaving the hospital and living here would be easy...

He is standing there cooking. He looks so clean and - shit there it is. I should go brush my teeth and shower. If I’m quick I’ll be finished by the time he is finished cooking.

I grab my bag from the hall where I’d left it last night and make my way to the bathroom. At least I still remember where that is, even if I couldn’t manage to sleep in a bed.

Steve is just setting out the eggs when I walk out. My hair is dripping water all over the place. Even now in clean clothes, I’m still a mess.

“Do you want something to tie it back with?”

I’d never even think to do that. “Okay.” 

He hands me a rubber band. “We can get you real hair ties when we’re out.”

“Huh? Oh - right, shopping. I didn’t sleep too late for that did I?”

“No, there is still plenty of time. Go on; sit - I’ll be right there. Do you want orange juice?”

Orange juice? “Yes - I want it.” Yes - I want it desperately. Why?

He sets out a glass in front of me then sits down across from me.

The scent of it fills my lungs. The sunlight is gone suddenly and everything is dark and.....

“Bucky? Bucky!!”

Oranges...

“Bucky what’s wrong!?” I can hear Steve somewhere but...

“Oranges....”

Steve looks terrified. But we won’t get caught...

Wait - “Steve, did we ever spend Christmas locked in a closet?”

The fear fades from his eyes - his whole face lights up. “Yes! Bucky - you remember!?”

“Why were we locked in a closet?”

He starts to laugh as if the memory is too much for him. “I’m sorry, Buck.... you. It was my fault. We were in the orphanage and - I’d been sick for several days. I’d been coughing all through Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve... Sister Theresa was so mad that she threatened to lock me in a closet without food or water for all of Christmas if I did it again.

‘Christmas morning I was still sick. I tired so hard not to cough but I couldn’t help it. She was glaring at me with a murderous stare the whole time - so you started to cough too. You were faking of course. 

‘I told you to stop - but you insisted you could take the attention off of me if you were loud enough. That only made her madder. But you just told me not to worry. That if I was going to get locked in a closet I wouldn’t be getting locked in alone.

‘Sure enough she dragged us both by our ears to one of the closets and locked us in. We were so hungry, so later in the afternoon you decided to go steal food from the kitchen - and yes - you got us oranges!”

“But you were so sick - why would I take you with me if you were so sick?”

“Because I wouldn’t let you go alone!”

“Did we ever get caught?”

“No. We were good. You even stuffed the orange rinds in your shoe to make sure they never smelled them when they finally came to get us out!”

“When did they let us out?”

“Oh it was late at night. I’d long since fallen asleep, and they never found out that we’d gotten out and stolen food.”

“You were asleep when they let us out?”

“Well no, you woke me up as soon as you heard the door.”

“Why?”

“You just didn’t want me to get into trouble...”

“For sleeping when it was late and you were sick?”

“Yeah well, we got into trouble for a lot of things we did back then. We were always pushing the rules...”

“It sounds like we had fun.”

“We did! I keep trying to tell you about it....”

“Did you ever tell me that story?”

“Yeah I think I did.”

“Oh, so I didn’t remember on my own...”

“Well, you - you were still in the hospital when I told you. It was pretty early on. I don’t think you were listening.”

“I’m sorry. There were a lot of times I didn’t listen. I won’t do that anymore, Steve. I’m sorry. I want to remember...”

“You did though. You remembered the smell of oranges, not what I told you. Those oranges were a lifesaver. We couldn’t carry water back and we were thirsty. I couldn’t stop coughing - I wanted water. Those oranges were so juicy - that is what you remembered. I never told you about the oranges - only how you coughed and stole us food.”

..... “Okay.”

“We can get oranges when we go out... we finally don’t have to worry about food anymore.”

“Can we have gingerbread too?”

“You remember?”

“Yes. Did you tell me about the cookies?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Because you felt bad that you broke them when I pulled you behind the Christmas tree and threw you over my shoulder?”

“Yes! I never told you that. We’ll get gingerbread cookies if we have to search everywhere - I’ll make them if we can’t find them. It is July.”

“Its okay. I don’t need them, I’m just... I have two memories of my own now. That’s all I need. That and clothes. You’re dressed better than me.”

“Fair enough. We’ll go out as soon as we’re finished.”

After breakfast we leave to go shopping. It is exciting just to walk down the street - seeing everything in daylight. All the trees and stores are so colorful and so vibrant. I love seeing everyone around us walking with their dogs and their phones. I’m so fascinated by the clothing everyone wears and I cannot wait to have my own! I’ll get to pick out all my own things, I’ll get to look like they do - I’ll have my drums and my own life! 

Even the drab subway station is exciting. The thought of being in the city is so thrilling. I can’t help but be fascinated by everyone on the train. They read from their phones and some even newspapers still. Teenagers are laughing as if they’re up to no good - pulling pranks on one another and such - I feel so alive.

Steve seems nervous. I don’t notice at first but he keeps distracting me, asking if I’m all right. It starts to get to me - his tension, I feel it. What is his problem? I want to know what kind of headphones that girl is using and if they sound better than mine - why is he so upset? Is it because the last time we were on a train together I fell out?

Jesus, this isn’t anything like that train. For one - it is underground and not on the side of a cliff. It is fucking summer and I’m not freezing my ass off and - oh right, we’re on a train with a bunch of kids - not Nazis who are trying to kill us.

I’m annoyed at him for thinking that I would be so unhinged by a fucking subway ride, but it is in my head now and I cannot get it out. I remember the zip line. I remember the risk of it - how I felt no fear at the thought of flying - hanging from a narrow rope over a ravine - bugs on a windscreen - how my true fear was Zola. How I would face that man again. I wanted him dead - but the thought of him made me sick. I was so afraid that the terror would seize me and I would be unable to pull the trigger.

It takes hold of me now - damn you, Steve. I was fine. Fuck you. “What kind of headphones are those? Do you think they work better than the little ones that I have?”

“I don’t know...”

“I want some.”

“Okay, we can pick some up - there is a Best Buy near where we are going. They’ll have plenty of headphones you can pick out.”

“Awesome.”

We ascend into daylight and instantly the rush of fresh air and sunlight erases my fear. I feel life and the electricity of the city around me. So many sounds and twice as many things to see as there were in Brooklyn. I’m in love and I never want to leave.

Did I feel this way the first time I entered the city as a child? When did I first come to the city? Did I see Brooklyn first? I wish I could remember. I’d ask Steve, but that would be his words - his version of my memories that I told him. I want to know how I felt - I want to remember. I want my thoughts and my memories to be mine and mine alone. 

We pass the Flat Iron Building. Steve asks if I remember it. I know it, from photos and from having seen it on TV - but do I recall this building as it was in the 30’s? No. 

He keeps telling me that the city looks so different, that my not remembering is okay. He tells me how unfamiliar it all was for him... Unfamiliar. Unfamiliar - but he had a point of reference. I don’t. I have nothing. The vague recollection of wanting to play drums and some lost Christmas spent in a closet. Drums. Oranges. It is so small.

Who was I? What kind of person was I? 

We go into several clothing stores. It goes all right at first, but we argue. Steve wants to go into stores; I see others and want to go into them. He is hesitant with everything that I pick out, but he lets me have my way every time.

We finally finish and go to this place called ABC Carpet and Home. He has been dying to take me there. There is so much to look at. I do like it, but I’m stuck on the clothes we just bought. Was Steve taking me to places that he thought I would have liked before? Was he pushing me to get things that were similar to what I would have worn in the 30s? I wanted to make my own decisions, I want a new life - but I want my old one too. What would I have worn? Did I make a terrible mistake? What if Steve doesn’t like the things I bought? He did seem upset by some of them. 

“What do you think of this lamp for the living room?”

“Huh?” What living - oh. “Its nice.”

I think about all the black, blue, brown and grey clothing that I picked out. Were those colors I wore back then - didn’t he say that blue was my favorite color? Blue... Did I really like it? I do like it now. It is like the trees. I wanted a house with trees so badly - but I don’t remember that. I don’t remember the house I where I was born at all. I can’t even imagine that I ever had parents...

“Are you all right? Do you want to stop for today? We can come back another day.”

“No, I’m fine. I want that wall sconce that looks like a sea creature.”

“The coral lamp - For the living room?”

“Yes. That one you picked is ugly. Look it gives off too much light. I hate bright lights - its so.... it’s so sterile. This one looks more like candle light.”

“Huh. You know, I never thought of it that way. I was going for a more simple design, I wasn’t thinking about the light it gave off.”

We fight over a few more things and eventually settle on a new table, and a few other small things. Steve says he will have it all delivered. Whatever he wants. As long as he doesn’t decorate. He’d light the apartment like a fucking hospital and.... Do I hate that light because of all the time that I was in a lab, strapped to a table with that light shining down on me? Did I want the other lamp because it was similar to the lamps we would have used in the 30’s? Was it both?

By the time we get to Trader Joe’s, the last thing I can think about is food. Steve picks out every exotic thing he can find. I stick mostly to the basics. Do I hate food because of some weird conditioning they did to me? What did I even eat when I was in captivity? I can’t remember. Did I ever care about food when we were young? I remember feeling really happy to have those oranges... Wait - didn’t Steve say that he did all the cooking? That I would come home from work and he wanted to have something hot for us to eat? Wouldn’t that mean that he would have more concerned over what we ate than I did? Weren’t we really poor? Would my concern be over what we ate - or would I just have worried about having food in the first place? We were so hungry in the closet weren’t we... maybe we never had enough to eat so why would I care now?

“Are you sure you’re ok? We’re almost done. We can go home after this. I know it was a lot for you today-”

“It wasn’t a lot for me! I’m not a child - I can handle picking out shirts and buying groceries!”

But when we get home and I finally sit down on the sofa, even I have to admit - I’m exhausted. I’m so afraid of falling asleep again, but this time I know I won’t. There are a million thoughts running through my head and I can’t make sense of any of them. Hospitals, streets, war, rations, operating tables, children playing loudly in a yard, plastic bags rustling, cabinets shutting, car engines, a city, a desert, a snowstorm, mountains. The cold and the numbness in my body as I lay in a prone position, waiting with endless patients for my target as the snow begins to fall. The flakes coat my hair and my clothes, concealing me from sight. The muzzle helps to conceal my breath. Peripheral on the package...

“Bucky?”

“Huh?” Steve, right. All that noise of cabinets, it was him putting away the food.

“I was going to cook turkey for dinner, but... there was something that I had wanted to show you.”

“All right.”

Who was I trying to kill? My mark, see it in my eyes... Who did I kill? How many lives did I shatter when I took that one? Laying on at the edge of a cliff half covered in snow as darkness fell and lights came on in the town far away in the distance. Was he trying to get to a family in that town? Was it even a man? Perhaps she was trying to get home to her children... I would have been told that my target was dangerous - a threat that had to be stopped at all costs. Didn’t they tell me the same thing about Steve when they sent me to kill him?

All that we suffered as children without parents. Cold and hungry - locked in a closet because he had coughed - how many more orphans did I make in my years as an assassin, a soldier - how many lives did I-

“Here it is it.”

A box. A box with a lot of official looking labels and a lot of initials, all from various decades based on the fading. S.H.I.E.L.D. - S.S.R. - P.C. - J.B.B. - “Bucky.” It isn’t very big, but it isn’t that small either.

“What is it?”

“It’s from Peggy.” Steve puts his hands on his hips after placing it on the table and looks down at it. “I’ve never opened it. She - when we died - or were presumed dead, there were a lot of questions about what to do with our things. When I joined the U.S.O. Tour, I kept out apartment. I kept paying the rent so we’d have a place to return home to after the war. All of our things were there so, Peggy kept some of them. She told me she felt half crazy keeping our things in boxes - but when they found me alive; she had everything sent over to me. There were two boxes of my things, and one of yours. I never could bring myself to open it, so I don’t know for sure what is in it.”

“This box... those are, my things - from the 30’s?”

“Yes, and possibly from further back. Mine had things that dated back to before the orphanage. My father’s Purple Heart, my mother’s bible, photos of my parents... Are you okay?”

Parents. This box - are there photos of my parents in it? No. No I don’t want to see it. I want to remember my mother’s face. I want to recall the sound of my father’s voice - I want to know who they were inside - I want to feel it. I want to know that I had parents; I don’t want to be told by someone else - “I can’t!”

“It’s okay. I couldn’t open mine for months. And when I did... well - it wasn’t easy at all. I wasn’t sure if I should give this to you tonight but - I - I want you to know that it is here when you are ready. It will be in the closet in my room.”

I will never set foot near that closet, I tell myself as he leaves to put it away.

“Why didn’t you open it?” I ask when he returns.

He doesn’t say anything. His jaw tightens; he looks down at his feet the sits down hard in the chair across from me. “I just couldn’t.” He doesn’t even look at me when he speaks.

“Why?”

“You were dead. You were gone, I couldn’t bear it.”

“I’m here now.”

His face doesn’t change. He smiles faintly, but I can see it is forced. I’m not here am I? I’m still on a cliff trying to kill someone. I’m still afraid of a light above my head and I’m still at a loss for what to do when this person that I used to take care of - sits across from me - clearly in distress. What would I have done? 

I’m supposed to do something. Take care of him - but I don’t know how. He keeps taking care of me and I keep snapping at him. Is that why I get so angry - because I am meant to look after him? I know that - I know I am supposed to take care of him but I forget all the time. He does everything for me and now he needs me and I don’t know what to do...

Change the subject? What did you want to cook?

“Turkey...” He is still despondent.

“Okay. I’ll put the clothes away - then when you’re done we can watch Pearl Jam like we were supposed to last night.”

“Okay, that sounds like a plan.” 

It is a plan - not a great one but it is something. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing in truth. All I wanted was a home. I really hope I don’t fuck this up... Maybe I was wrong - may be Sam and Steve were right. This is too soon... but I just couldn’t take it anymore. I’ve been in captivity for so long, I just wanted to go home. Please dear god; don’t let me fuck this up...

I’ve just about put everything away when I decide to change into something from today. I debate it for far too long but finally settle on black pants, shiny black boots and a dark blue shirt. I realize with a sinking heart that I never thanked Steve for any of this... I walk to the kitchen to thank him but the words stick in my throat.

Steve is neatly arranging cookie dough on a tray, “I was able to get everything I needed to make gingerbread cookies - but I forgot cookie cutters. I’m sorry, Buck.”

“Why are you sorry? You’ve already done too much... I didn’t care that they were broken - what was it, 85 years ago? I don’t care what shape they are in now. I...thank you, Steve...for everything...”

“It - really its the least I can do. You did far more for me, this is nothing.”

...Did I? Will I ever remember? I wish I knew what I did back then, I wish I could do it now... “I’ll go put on the DVD, then I’ll come help in the kitchen.” And let’s hope I can manage that...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! We'll be posting the next chapter tomorrow night!!!
> 
> Bucky references two songs in this chapter. The line, "I've got my mark see it in my eyes," is from The Beginning of the End by Nine Inch Nails. "Peripheral on the Package," is from "The Package," by A Perfect Circle. I drew an illustration for Bucky's flashback of waiting on a cliff for his target. I'm finishing it now so I will have it posted by tomorrow night as well!!


	29. Chapter 29

“Pedaling through  
The dark currents  
I find   
An accurate copy  
A blueprint  
Of the pleasure  
In me

Swirling black lilies totally ripe  
A secret code carved  
Swirling black lilies totally ripe  
A secret code carved  
He offers  
A handshake  
Crooked  
Five fingers  
They form a pattern  
Yet to be matched

On the surface simplicity  
But the darkest pit in me  
It's pagan poetry  
Pagan poetry  
Morsecoding signals (signals)  
They pulsate (wake me up) and wake me up  
(pulsate) from my hibernate

On the surface simplicity  
Swirling black lilies totally ripe  
But the darkest pit in me  
It's pagan poetry  
Swirling black lilies totally ripe  
Pagan poetry  
Swirling black lilies totally ripe  
....

 

I love him, I love him  
I love him, I love him

 

This time  
She loves him, she loves him  
I'm gonna keep it to myself  
She loves him, she loves him  
She loves him, she loves him  
This time  
I'm gonna keep me all to myself  
She loves him, she loves him  
And he makes me want to hand myself over  
She loves him, she loves him  
She loves him, she loves him  
And he makes me want to hand myself over”

Björk, “Pagan Poetry”

 

I’m alone. Finally. Steve has gone to sleep, and I’m in my room. I’m alone. No nurses or guards marching up and down the hall. No one is watching me. No one. I’m finally free, a human being in a home.

It isn’t that I feel completely safe or at peace, this place is far better than any place else I’ve ever been, but I don’t think I will ever feel truly safe ever. Now at least I’m finally free to feel everything that I have been fighting or hiding. Because no one can see me. I can write what I want with no fear of judgment or worse. Things I would never be able tot ell some fucking therapist.

I’m not going to say that talking to her didn’t help - because I did need that time. But really, after what has been done to me - what could that really know to help me? Even Sam can only do so much - and Steve. Steve.

Steve.

Fuck.

I don’t want him to know. Though I suspect he has known all along. 

The meds they’ve had me on... I would have stopped taking them the night we got to Sam’s, but I figured I’d better be home for that. They have no affect on me really. I can feel them for a brief period of time - but my body - they don’t know. Steve knows. He can’t get drunk; he mentioned something once about taking something for a headache - that it wouldn’t do much. He knows what they’ve put me on didn’t do shit. So does he know that I was faking it? All those months that I pretended to be fucking sedated and mellowed out on the drugs so they’d leave me alone?

He knows. Does he know how I faked it during my trial? I was still fucked up, but not nearly as fucked up as I pretended to be. Just sat there - gave into the confusion and pretended to be some fucking vegetable practically. That is what they all wanted me to do - even my therapist. No one told me - I just fucking knew it would go easier on them.

The last thing I needed was for Steve to go through any more trouble.

I hate it. I hate being so fucking helpless and having him do everything for me. I had to get out of there - I had to be free to take care of myself. I can’t have him do all of this for me.

I’m off the meds now. I don’t expect much to change, but I need to understand if my feelings are actually my own. I’ve been drugged for far to fucking long.

I’m not afraid of the withdrawal. It will be nothing.

Nothing at all. 

I still remember the horror of getting off whatever the fuck drugged Hydra had shot into my veins. All those days convulsing on the floor of some random hotel room - shivering and puking for an eternity. The room spinning around me - the hallucinations - dry heaving over and over even after I could have sworn I’d wretched up ever fucking internal organ I had....

I don’t want to remember all the shit that I hallucinated. I don’t even like remembering the angel. She was so real that she still scares the shit out of me - not nearly as much as the bugs on my skin and in my veins but still...

I don’t remember what she said - just that we talked. I remember asking her if she was my mother. I don’t remember what she said, but she wasn’t my mother - motherless child that I am. She said that she’d prayed for me. I remember that - “I prayed for you, you know. I prayed on my deathbed.....” Then some shit about being there because I prayed for help.

What the fuck? Either she was full of shit or I must have been really fucked out of my mind to have fucking prayed to fucking god for help. Shit, I so was such a mess.

I won’t feel anything like that coming off this shit. 

I just don’t want Steve to see me sick - that is my only fear. Other than that I need my fucking mind to be my fucking own. No more control from outside.

I need to know. I need to know everything.

I’m so afraid of what I am. I’m so afraid of what they’ve done to me. At the hospital, they told me there is nothing from with me aside from my arm. They examined me they say, the say nothing is implanted in me, but what do they know?

What if there is a trigger in me still? What if there are trackers? What if there is a bomb? A kill switch? A kill switch would be fine. I would simply die. I’m so afraid that it is a bomb - what if I kill Steve? What if they can trigger me to be a killer again and I kill him!

What was I thinking - I can’t stay here. I will never be safe - I will never be free. Sam. He was right. I have to call him. I have to tell him - that if I lose myself again - that he has to do it. Steve will never do it. Sam has to be the one to pull the trigger.

I can’t let anything happen to Steve. Ever.

I can’t do this. I can’t live - not like this. I have to face it, I don’t want to, but I have to face it now. It eats away at me - keeps me up at night - makes me feel sick and causes my hands to shake when I’m not even thinking about the past. I can’t admit to it I can’t - but I have to. I could never tell any one - ever not some therapist and never - never ever Steve. 

I’m in love with him.

He can never know. He can never ever know - because I know - or I am 99 percent sure that I know... he.... doesn’t.

Peggy. That woman. I knew. I remember enough. He loved her. He loved her and he forgot about me. Any hope that I had was erased when she came. He never looked at me again - that much I remember. He never even noticed me when she was around... They way they looked at each other. I felt like I was like being stabbed in the heart - repeatedly every time. 

What the hell is wrong with me? Was I always like this? I have to know - I hate this. Was I always like this - did this just start now? Is it the meds - even though I fucking know that it isn’t? I even started listening to his stories about when we were kids but... there is no hint of it anywhere. 

Nothing - but I can’t stop thinking about it - I can’t stop feeling this. I hate myself I hate myself - I hate myself for feeling this but I do. I love him why? I don’t want to feel this way - he doesn’t love me and he never will. How can I be in love with I’m when is supposed to be my brother? Wasn’t I supposed to protect him?

Every time I look at him I feel such - I tired not to feel it for so long... every time I look at him I feel alive - I am full of light and life - and it was all him. Just looking at him sometimes made me feel calm. Then I remember what we are - or now when I think of him with her. The light inside of me turns to lead - my limbs start to burn with longing and then it hurts just to look at him.

Was I always like this? Did I feel this way when we were kids? Did he ever feel this way about me - I know he doesn’t. He would have mentioned it - at least three hundred times even if we kissed once - he would have said it seeing as he never fucking shuts up sometimes - and all the while I want to yell at him to shut the fuck up - I still love him and find it cute. That is how bad it is. Cute. 

I’m sick. What the fuck kind go sick person feels that way about their best friend - their brother? For God sakes, he is Captain Fucking America - I can’t be fucking gay for him. God what the hell is wrong with me?

I want to be with women - there were plenty of nurses that I would have had sex with. I flirted with them and I know I could have had them had it not been for the fucking situation.... There were two that were totally into me. And yet - I’d trade them all for him.

I’m sick. I’m fucking sick and Steve can never know. Because it is - I am. I’m in love with him and he is in love with a woman. What is worse? That this is some sickness - that I’m such a wreck from all that they’ve done to me that I fell in love with the first person who showed me any kindness? Or is it worse if I was always like this - always perverting our friendship? We were brothers. Have I warped that into something else?

I’ll ruin our friendship - and all of his memories of what we were if he ever finds out.

He can never know.

God, he was so happy today when I remembered some stupid day when we stole food and got punished for some stupid thing. All he wants is his best friend back. I can’t do this. I can’t stay here...

The sound of his voice in the morning, the sunlight, he answered me, he -

Fuck it. I can do this. I have to; this is all that I have ever wanted. I’m going to go check on him, and then I’ll behave myself and try to sleep.

 

............

 

I should try to sleep, but I can’t stop thinking about today. I can’t stop thinking about the past. I close my eyes to sleep, and it is all I can see. It is like I am still there.

I’m trying so hard to run. I’m desperately trying to catch up to him but he is so fast. I feel like I’m going to faint but I push myself to keep going. My fingers tighten around the small sack in my hands. I can’t drop it, no matter what happens. 

I turn the corner and look down the hall but Bucky is gone. I’ve fallen too far behind. He was right. I should have stayed behind - I’m going to get us both caught. I feel terrible - this is all my fault to begin with. He’d be in a warm room by now, playing by a heater were it not for me he -

He runs back down the hall and grabs my arm. Bucky drags me to the next hall and I can see that we are making for the Christmas tree. He lets go of my arm - slides his bundle into the corner then dives so gracefully behind the tree without making a sound. I try to do the same but end up stumbling a few feet short of the tree. I fall to my knees still clutching the bundle but I’ve already fallen on it. My heart sinks. I’ve broken all of the cookies. They were supposed to be a surprise. I can feel a sob forming in the back of my throat but before it can, Bucky scoops me up off the floor and pulls me into his chest. He holds me so close that I can hear his heartbeat. It was the last thing I’d ever expected - I gasp - completely forgetting that we’re supposed to be hiding. 

He is telling me to shut up. Sister Theresa walks right past us and I barely even notice. All I can hear is the sound of Bucky’s heart pounding in my right ear. He can’t know. He can never know... I’m in love with him.

“Come on, Steve, we can make it.” He lets me go - the sudden silence brings me back to reality.

Please don’t let him see that I’m blushing.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He knows. Does he know? He carries me back to the closet and I’m mortified. He has to do everything for me. I hate being so sick and so small. The way he carries me. It’s like I’m nothing more than a fabric sack to him - only he wouldn’t break what was in his.

We spend the rest of the day locked in that broom closet. We laugh and play games but I can’t help but to feel guilty. He lies and says that he is happy. He could be somewhere warm right now if it wasn’t for me. It is all my fault, and still I can’t stop thinking about the way it felt when he held me, or how much I want to kiss him. It is wrong. Here he is taking care of me and I want so much more…. He cares for me like I am his little brother, but it is different for me. I’m in love with him and I am so afraid he will find out. 

It gets late; my fever starts to get the better of me. Bucky is cursing like he always does - feeling my forehead, telling me that I need to be someplace warm. He always does this, even when I’m not sick. Sometimes I’ll be lying in bed, and he’ll sneak over from his just to feel my head and make sure that I’m okay. 

“Bucky, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. One day I’m going to buy you a house with a warm bed, lots of blankets and some decent clothes. Jesus Christ, these fucking rags they make us wear. I’m getting you nothing but sweaters once I have money.”

But we have nothing, and I’m freezing and tired. I’m fighting sleep and he knows it. “God damn it, Steve.” 

If I was sick or cold and we were in our beds, he’d curl up beside me and wrap his arms around me. But we’re not in bed. There is hardly enough room to lie down. I try to curl up on the floor. “No, its too cold, come up here.” He leans back against the wall and pulls me into him. His chest becomes my pillow, and his arms become my blankets. I was so comfortable, I doubt that he was, but as I was falling asleep listening to the sound of his heartbeat and his voice as he told me perverted versions of fairy tales - all I could think was that I wanted to be stay that close to him forever.

“It’s your bed isn’t it?” Sam once asked me. Yes. It is... it feels like I’m sinking to the floor -because Bucky isn’t there to hold me. I can’t feel his heart beating, he isn’t kicking me to be quiet when he makes me laugh, and nothing has been right since he and I joined the army. I slept better in that filthy orphanage bed under those threadbare sheets because I was with him.

“Steve, your feet are so fucking cold! Now shut up and go to sleep. Hey, did you see Sister Anne today? How she tripped and fell onto that statue of Saint Mark? I’ll be that’s the hottest sex either of them have had for years. Shhhh… stop laughing, you little shit; people are trying to sleep. What is wrong with you?!!! Hey, hey - do you think she fell on Saint Mark purpose!?”

Eleven years old and he thinks he is so grown up saying those things to me. Suppose I were to tell him what I was thinking? That I wouldn’t mind if he fell on me, or that every time I watch him hit a home run I want him to come back to the place where I sit unable to play and kiss me... because I want everyone to know that he is mine.

But he is off with every girl he meets because they see it too. He is the most beautiful boy in the orphanage, at the dance, wherever we are... And still he tried to find me dates.

What a mess. And now it’s worse. I still want to kiss him, and he doesn’t even know who he is. One minute he seems fine, and then he is off somewhere else. He was good today when we were shopping, but nowhere near what he once was. Maybe I’m expecting too much. Bucky, my Bucky, is gone. It’s cruel to both of us for me to keep trying to bring him back. Buck—James—he keeps shouting at me that he doesn’t want to be reminded of his old self. He hates me for constantly reminding him, and I hate myself for still wanting… for hoping that–

Even if by some miracle he did come back… he’s not my Bucky. He never was.

I felt so hopeful when he remembered that old Christmas this morning, but today when we were shopping; he’d just disappear into his thoughts.

He was happy enough when we were buying clothes. He was making fun of everything I picked out for him. Buying band t-shirts and tight black jeans. Jesus, I let him buy all of that - with his hair the length it is, he will look just like some scrawny guitar player.

What am I going to do when Tony sees him wearing nothing but G Star? Wait... Tony will likely love it - what am I thinking? God, those two will get on like a house on fire. They can talk about bands and make fun of me. Hell, Tony will probably want to share clothing with him.

Tony. God! What am I going to tell Tony? How can I tell him the truth about his parents and–

Oh God.... Buck looked so good in all those tight black shirts, and his tight black jeans. I don’t know if I should be worried... He has lost some of the muscle he had on him when he was The Winter Soldier. He isn’t as small as he once was though. He was always fairly thin. That was my fault too. He was always bigger than me, but he was never the biggest guy in the room. He always skipped meals and made sure that I ate. He’d come home from work, lie and say that he’d eaten so that I would eat. He’d sneak food onto my plate in the orphanage. He’d always insist on doing it - I told him it didn’t matter, because I was never going to get any bigger. I never did, he grew so tall, but so much thinner than he should have been and it was all my fault.

And now I’m doing it again. Holding him back. Keeping him chained to me while I drag him under. Sick. I’m sick. What kind of man does that? Sister Theresa used to say God made me small and sickly because I was being punished for my sinful ways. Had she known? Could she see right through me? Could she have been right? Am I dammed? Is that why the ice didn’t kill me? Am I being punished? Am I dragging Bucky down with me again?

Fuck, what am I going to do? Wait, what - my door. Did he just? Bucky is in my room. Does he need something? Some instinct is telling me not to move, to pretend to sleep. He moves so silently, if I was sleeping and I didn’t have such heightened hearing, I would never hear him. I’m nervous but I lay as still as I can as he stands beside my bed. I feel the sudden warmth of his fingers against my forehead, I almost gasp. His fingers brush my hair back for a moment, and then he is gone. I hear the door click behind him as he leaves.

Just like when we were kids... nothing has changed. He is here, just like he never left. Okay. We can do this. Everything is going to be okay...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I'm on Facetime with Jenn (AdventuresofBuckyBear) who says hi. I'm flying home to NYC to spend Christmas with her and our families. And evidently we are going to cosplay the Christmas orphanage scene! We are going to work on the next few chapters while we're together. No spoilers, but the next chapter starts with an unexpected phone call...
> 
> I also promised that I would post my illustration from the last chapter in case anyone would like to see it. The link is here: http://datura-riot.tumblr.com/post/105358450056/peripheral-on-the-package-by-carol-datura - Bucky will eventually remember what happened and tell that story.


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